


Hogwarts Academy

by Kamaro0917



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aged up Gabrielle, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Drama, F/F, Fluff, Not Supernatural the Show, Supernatural Elements, Useless Lesbians, What Have I Done, haven't decided - Freeform, probably smut later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:55:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27018412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamaro0917/pseuds/Kamaro0917
Summary: Hermione finds herself at a new school after an abrupt move to a small town in Scotland. She just wants a normal year but she is about to find out that you don’t always get what you want.
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger
Comments: 178
Kudos: 422





	1. Chapter 1

Hermione took a deep breath in a half-hearted attempt to calm her nerves. The scent of pine assaulted her nose and the crisp air burned in her lungs. It was so fresh. Unfamiliar. A complete 180 from the busy cities she was used to. The only sounds she could hear were the birds calling from the trees in the nearby forest. Through those trees she could see a large lake in the distance, the sun shining brightly on its inky surface. It was so peaceful and she might have actually appreciated her surroundings if not for the anxious knots twisting in her stomach. There was a dampness to the air that permeated her thick wool jumper and she shivered involuntarily, bringing her out of her thoughts. 

She had been standing on the stone stairs for several minutes, looking out over the expansive grounds with her large trunk by her side. She hadn’t moved since her parents dropped her off. They had offered to stay of course, but she insisted that she could handle it. They had already enrolled her so they didn’t actually need to be there. Besides, the last thing she needed was for others to think she was the new girl who still needed to hold mummy and daddy’s hand. 

She knew that she was late but for once in her life she really didn’t care about keeping to her schedule. Instead of moving like she should, she turned and stared up at the imposing, ivy-covered, stone building with its tall turrets, fancy stained glass, and embossed sign that read ‘Hogwarts Academy.’ It looked more like something out of a fairy tale than a prestigious private college preparatory. She half expected a dragon to be lurking about ready to scorch her to a crisp as she crossed the threshold. Actually she would rather face a dragon than deal with the daunting task ahead: her first day at yet another school. And not just any school. A boarding school. It hadn’t been so bad in the past, but this was her senior year and her first time living away from her parents. To make matters worse, it was the middle of the fall semester. The deck was definitely stacked against her.

She was used to moving around; her parents’ work with the military all but guaranteed an annual family uprooting. If she was lucky she got two years between moves, but that had only happened twice in her eighteen years on this earth. Unlike their most recent relocation, they usually moved in the summer and she could start at her new school at the beginning of term, which made things easier. Starting mid-year would only compound the awkwardness, inquisitive stares, and probing questions. Plus there was the matter of navigating roommates to worry about. This is what she dreaded most: having to learn how to share a space and exist with someone else while catching up with her studies. She silently prayed that her parents had signed her up for a single room but she wasn’t counting on it.

Her family’s constant moving meant that she had underdeveloped social skills and struggled with meeting new people. She had tried when she was younger, but she quickly learned that making friends would only lead to disappointment and tearful goodbyes. To save herself future heartache, she stopped reaching out and socializing with her peers, preferring the role of the school loner. She turned to her books to cope with her ever shifting environment instead; the thick texts were the one constant in her life. She could lose herself in the pages for hours, getting whisked to faraway places and following her beloved characters on their daring adventures. At least these friends came with her wherever she was. She could count on them to be there for her when she needed. 

“Don’t be a bloody coward.” She coached herself, though her lame attempt at a pep talk went in one ear and out the other. She wasn’t feeling particularly brave at the moment but she knew that it was better to just get it over and done with. Standing around only prolonged the inevitable. She swallowed one last groan, adjusted her pleated plaid skirt (ugh, uniforms), hiked her pack higher on her shoulder, and forced her legs to work. She managed to hoist the heavy trunk up the stairs, though the effort left her panting and she mildly regretted her decision to pack most of her personal library. She took some time to catch her breath before turning to face the double doors that had been taunting her for the past few minutes. 

The heavy oak doors creaked open, protesting against their hinges, as she pushed against the ornate iron handles and stepped inside. There was no going back now. 

The front doors led into a grand entry room, easily large enough to comfortably fit a hundred people milling about with room to spare. Directly in front of her was a beautifully carved wooden staircase that led to the upper floors. Judging by the height of the building, Hermione deduced that there were likely three, if not four, floors. Two corridors branched off to either side of the entry room and Hermione spotted a sign indicating the administrative office was to the right. She slowly made her way down the hall, openly gawking at her new surroundings. 

It was like stepping back in time and right into a Jane Austen novel. Not that she minded, _Pride and Prejudice_ was one of her favorites, after all. Her mind was still wrapping itself around the fact that this was her school and she hadn’t been invited to dine with the Bingleys at Netherfield Park. 

The interior walls were dark wood paneling, adorned with elaborate light fixtures set at regular intervals. She noted that these were more for decor than necessity, as electric lights were also installed in the ceilings. She briefly wondered why they still used oil lamps with all the wood, surely that was a fire hazard in the making. Priceless works of art hung on display behind glass cases and marble statues were positioned in alcoves along the wall. The high ceilings opened the space but she found them to be stifling and oppressive. The wooden floors were buffed and polished and each step echoed hollowly down the long hallway.

The extravagant display of wealth and prestige made the corner of her lip curl in disgust. Reading about it was one thing, but living it was completely different. It felt rather self-serving and made her realize just how out of place she was. Why her parents decided to send her here was a mystery. Actually, that wasn’t true. She knew why. It was the only viable school in the area that suited their needs. Despite being stationed at the nearby military base, her parents would be traveling a lot and they didn’t want to burden her with looking after herself while they were away. She had tried to reassure them that she wouldn’t have minded, but she had lost that argument. 

“Bloody hell, there’s even a suit of armor…” she murmured under her breath as she walked down the hallway. 

If the building was this extravagant, she was dreading what the staff and students would be like. Probably a bunch of snooty prats that came from prestigious old money families. In short, the exact opposite of her own situation. She had already resolved to keep her head down and get through this year like she always did, but judgmental peers tended to make that task more difficult. Not that she actually cared what they thought of her, but harsh words still left little scars. She was mostly used to it by now. Wherever she went, there was always something she was teased about: her military family, her excessively voluminous curls, her buck teeth and freckles, her clothes, her intellect. She had learned to take bullying in stride and not let it get to her but it did wear on her a bit.

She found the office without difficulty and pushed her way inside. A middle aged woman in a prim lavender blouse sat behind an impressive mahogany desk, shuffling through stacks of papers. Her sandy blonde hair was pulled up in a tidy bun and her glasses had slipped down her nose. She looked up as soon as the door closed with a snap and greeted her with a friendly smile, hastily adjusting her glasses. “Good afternoon. May I help you, dearie?”

Hermione was taken aback by the warmth of her voice, her cheery smile, and the thick Scottish accent. She should have been expecting the lilt at least - she was in the heart of the Scottish Highlands, after all - but the tone was not at all what she was expecting from her first glance. The woman felt more like a kind aunt than a receptionist. 

She left her trunk by the door and approached the desk. “Oh, erm, hello. My name is Hermione Granger. My parents called last week to get my enrollment settled.”

“Oh yes, Miss Granger. We’ve been expecting you. Welcome to Hogwarts Academy. No troubles getting here, I presume?” The office clerk stood up and went to a large filing cabinet in the corner. She spent a few short moments shuffling through a drawer before pulling out a thick folder, and returning to her desk. Hermione could see that it had her name written on the tab in tidy script. It struck her as odd, most schools kept their student files digitally, but there wasn’t a computer in sight. 

Hermione shook her head. She hated filler conversation but she didn’t have the heart to shut the other woman down. “No, it was a lovely drive. Thank you for asking, Ms…?”

“Oh, forgive me, I didn’t introduce myself. You may call me Mrs. Abernathy. I’m the office administrator here, so if you have any troubles, I can help sort you out or find someone who can.” She smiled again and pulled a few documents out of the file. “Your parents were very efficient and it looks like we have everything we need, so you may get settled today and start your classes tomorrow. Here is your schedule.” 

Hermione reached out and took the slip of paper, giving it a quick cursory glance. Calculus, chemistry, literature, biology, world history, economics, and Latin. Aside from Latin, everything looked pretty standard, and she tucked the paper in her skirt pocket as the woman continued her introductory spiel. 

“Your professors are expecting you and your textbooks have already been delivered to your room. Now, seeing as we are already part way through the term, they have also left their class rubrics so you can start catching up on the material you have missed, though I am sure they will all go over this with you tomorrow as well. Don’t feel bad if it takes you some time to catch up, the professors are all very understanding of your situation and will afford you some leeway.” 

“I’m sure I’ll manage, thank you.” Hermione responded curtly, bristling slightly. She never took kindly to people questioning her academic ability, no matter how friendly they were.

Undeterred by Hermione’s sharp tone, the administrator continued pulling papers out of Hermione’s file. “Here is a map of the grounds. I took the liberty of highlighting your classrooms. Meals are served in the Great Hall,” Mrs. Abernathy had laid out five sheets of paper, one for each floor and another for the grounds, and was gesturing with the tip of her pen as she rambled off various points of interest. 

Hermione’s eyes bugged out slightly. The main building was huge, bigger than she surmised when she stood out front. There were also satellite buildings, like a greenhouse and athletic gymnasium. Her eyes scanned the map, only vaguely aware of the fact that Abernathy was still speaking to her. 

“And the library is on the third floor in the west wing.” 

Hermione perked up at that bit of information but her reaction was interrupted by the sound of the door opening behind them. She turned and came face to face with a girl with long red hair, a hearty smattering of freckles, and soft brown eyes. Her round face and full cheeks made her look slightly younger and Hermione wondered what year she was. She was dressed in the school uniform but the skewed tie and uncuffed sleeves indicated that she had a more relaxed take on the stuffy clothes. 

“Ah, right on time. Miss Weasley will be showing you around the grounds to help you orient yourself, as well as helping you find your room.” Mrs. Abernathy greeted the new arrival and explained her purpose. “Miss Granger will be staying in room 73.”

The redhead nodded and spoke in a light, casual tone “Sounds good, I’ll get her all squared away, no problem. Name’s Ginny.” She added, offering her hand. 

“Hermione.”

“Well, unless you have any questions, I’ll leave you in the capable hands of Miss Weasley.”

“Not at this time. Thank you, Mrs. Abernathy, you’ve been most helpful.” Hermione grabbed the maps and other random pieces of paper with pertinent information, hurriedly putting them in her pack before turning to the redhead. “Right, I guess I’m following you then.”

It didn’t take long for Hermione to get settled into her new room, which was mercifully empty since classes were still in session. She didn’t think she had the capacity to deal with people and unpacking at the same time. Ginny had left her to get sorted and told her to come down to her room when she had finished so they could continue the tour. 

She had openly balked when she saw four beds in the room. One roommate would have been bad enough, but sharing the space with three other girls was a living nightmare. And by the looks of it, they were the type of girls she wouldn’t get on with. Gossip magazines were stacked high on their bedside tables and their desks were covered in makeup and beauty products. 

“Just fabulous,” she scoffed sarcastically under her breath as she organized her books in alphabetical order by author. 

Once her belongings were in place, she settled at her desk and started perusing the lessons from her professors. Most of it was review, which would make the transition significantly easier. She was worried about Latin, though she had lived in France for a year so that would help a bit. Still, she didn’t like the idea of being behind in a subject. Ginny had told her to take her time, which Hermione suspected was so she could skip out of the rest of her afternoon classes, so she cracked the textbook for a quick review of the early chapters. After 15 minutes she set the book aside and headed to find the redhead. 

“Okay. So this is a pretty small school, about a hundred students in each year, so you’ll have a lot of the same people in your classes.” Ginny explained as they wandered the corridors. 

Hermione was grateful for the tour because she would have been lost trying to navigate the halls, even with the maps. The building was like a maze, littered with random wings and corridors to nowhere. Whoever built this place needed their architecture license revoked. 

She was surprised to find that she actually enjoyed the redhead’s company, appreciating her dry sense of humor and wit. She also liked that Ginny was from England, her own family’s original home base, and she found the girl’s accent comforting and familiar. Maybe she would revisit her stance on making friends.

“Great, I can’t wait,” Hermione remarked sarcastically to hide her disappointment. There went her original plan to blend in and pass unnoticed. 

“Yeah, it can get pretty gossipy. Especially with your roommates. Lavender and Parvati are the gossip queens. They’re up in everyone’s business.”

“Bloody fantastic. Is there anyone else I should be aware of?”

“Eh, pretty much what you’d expect from a bunch of rich kids. Everyone’s looking down at you for one reason or another.”

Hermione noticed the unmasked disdain in Ginny’s voice and her curiosity piqued, “Oh, and that’s not you?”

“Nope, I got in on a joint academic and athletic scholarship for rugby. Unlike most everyone else, I didn’t have to buy my way in.” Ginny puffed her chest up proudly. “My brother’s here, too. He’s in your year. He can be a bit of a prat sometimes so if he gives you any trouble just let me know and I’ll kick his arse.”

“Good to know.”

“Oh, you’ll definitely want to steer clear of Malfoy. His dad is some political bigwig and he’s a total snitch. You can’t miss him, he’s got a face like a weasel and super blonde hair.” Ginny started naming off the list of people to avoid but Hermione zoned out. Having no real context or faces to put with the names made it pretty meaningless in her book. Ginny didn’t seem to notice and she continued her rambling as they walked. 

Hermione was saved by the bell and moments later the halls were flooded with students, all eager to be done with their classes for the day and looking forward to dinner time. The loud chatter echoed off the walls and ceilings as uniformed students hustled to and fro, loosening their ties and untucking their shirts along the way.

“Come on, we should get to the Great Hall before the good stuff runs out!” Ginny grabbed Hermione by the bicep and started pulling her through the sea of students. 

Feeling overwhelmed by the crowd, Hermione fell into line behind the redhead and allowed herself to be dragged along. One benefit of having Ginny as her guide was that everyone moved out of her way and the few that didn’t got a firm shove. Apparently no one came between Ginny and her supper. 

Dinner was an impressive affair. The Great Hall was huge, filled with long wooden tables and bench seating. Another long table ran perpendicular to the student tables; several professors were already there, monitoring the early dinner arrivals. 

Students had several dining options: a buffet style hot line that had four entrees and side dishes; a full salad bar; a large display of desserts and pastries; and even an assortment of cereals for the day-long breakfast enthusiasts. It put public school cafeteria food to shame and Hermione enthusiastically loaded a serving of Shepherd's pie, bangers and mash, and a side salad onto her tray. Normally she wouldn’t eat so much but she had skipped lunch due to her upset stomach and was eager to rectify the issue of her empty stomach.

Food in hand, she had tried to disappear into the crowd but her tour guide would not stand for it. Instead, Ginny took her over to ‘her usual spot’ and the pair were later joined by some of Ginny’s friends and teammates. In the meantime, Ginny took the liberty of pointing people out to her as well as any pertinent information about them. 

“That’s Seamus, he’s a good guy, though he tends to light things on fire. By accident of course.” Ginny’s tone indicated her doubt of the innocence of Seamus’s pyrotechnics. 

Hermione took a bite of her bangers and mash, her chocolate brown eyes followed the redhead’s line of sight to a young man with dark brown hair and what appeared to be soot on his eyebrow. He was standing next to a tall, lanky boy with dark skin. 

“And the bloke next to him is Dean. He and I dated for like, five minutes in our second year…”

Hermione nodded noncommittally, she really didn’t care for the gossip but Ginny continued to prattle on, pointing out Cho, Lavender and Parvati, her three roommates. From her first look, Hermione could tell she was correct in her earlier assessment - she would definitely butt heads with the three girls, who were currently laughing and chattering on about some nonsense she couldn’t quite make out. Fortunately everyone was off in their own little world and seemed to be unaware of the new face in their midst, something Hermione would cherish while it lasted. Which turned out to not be long at all. 

A few minutes later and the spaces around them filled up with Ginny’s mates, and the awkward interrogation began, much to Hermione’s dismay. She was asked a dozen questions in rapid fire, though she had been asked the same questions every year for as long as she could remember and just offered the same canned answers she always gave. 

“I moved around a lot, my parents work for the military so they get sent all over. We were in Germany before this…” Hermione’s attention was caught by a flash of silver near the entrance and she trailed off, completely distracted; her eyes taking in the student who had just entered. Most of the student population was already seated and tucking into their meals, so the girl’s - young woman’s - arrival was rather obvious. Story forgotten, she blurted out the first words that came to mind. 

“And… Who is that?” Hermione stared in the direction of the recent arrival. Her heart lurched in her chest and her mouth ran dry. 

Hermione had never seen someone so breathtaking before and she couldn’t take her eyes off her. Silvery-blonde hair hung perfectly straight down her back to her waist and Hermione suddenly wanted to card her fingers through it. Piercing arctic blue eyes scanned the Hall like a hawk, not looking at anyone in particular, just surveying the scene in front of her with an air of indifference. She had sharp features, high cheekbones, a chiseled jawline, and a perfectly sloping neck that looked like it had been carved out of marble by Michelangelo himself. She was wearing the same uniform as everyone else but somehow she made it look even better. Maybe it was the way she carried herself, so regal and elegant. She looked like she glided, rather than walked, as she grabbed a tray and moved through the salad bar. 

“Ugh… Phlegm. I’d forgotten about her.” Ginny rolled her eyes and took a swig of her juice. 

“Phlegm?”

“Her name isn’t actually Phlegm, that’s just a nickname Weasley gave her,” the girl named Angelina explained. She and Ginny were on the rugby team together. “Her name’s Fleur Delacour and she…”

“She’s a total bitch. She’s pretty and all but she’s an ice queen. Hell, I’ve met glaciers that are warmer than her.” Ginny quickly interjected. “So close your mouth and file that away for the spank bank because you’ve got a snowball’s chance in hell with that bird. Blimey, I’ve seen many a bloke and even some ladies try their hand at that and believe me, it wasn’t pretty. She sent Cormac to the infirmary last year. Took ‘em three days to find his balls again…”

“In her defense, I think he had wandering hands so I say good on her. I’d have done the same thing if I were in her shoes.” Katie Bell, another rugby player, added.

“Whatever, I’m just saying that she and her sister are weird. Seriously, don’t waste your time.” Ginny finished, stabbing at her peas. 

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Hermione hastily deflected, turning her attention to her plate to hide the blush rising in her cheeks. She had been so focused on Fleur that she hadn't noticed the carbon copy standing next to her. The sister. A few years younger by the looks of it. “You’ve basically named off everyone that’s gone through those doors so I was just curious.”

“Uh huh…” Ginny didn’t sound convinced but mercifully dropped the subject. 

“So Hermione, where was your favorite place to live?” Luna chimed in, seemingly unphased by the tension or discussion revolving around one Fleur Delacour.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione woke early the next morning feeling groggy, hints of her annoyance from last night still lingering in the corners of her mind. Her eyes stung from lack of sleep and her limbs felt heavy and uncooperative. This was _not_ how she wanted to start her first official day. But it wasn’t her fault that she was exhausted and in a bad mood - it was because of her damned roommates! She had even planned her evening to maximize her free time and ensure she got a proper night’s rest, but the three girls sharing her room had all but squashed her plans faster than she could say Bob’s your uncle. 

She had excused herself from dinner as soon as she finished eating, claiming that she needed the time to catch up in her studies, which wasn’t a complete lie. While she did want to prepare for her classes, she really wanted to give herself adequate time to reset her “people tolerance battery.” She was proud of herself for getting through such a social dinner and, much to her surprise, she had actually enjoyed parts of it. Ginny and her teammates weren’t the worst company she’d had to endure. Still, there was only so much she could take before she felt completely drained. Thankfully, her dining companions had accepted her excuse without question, easily falling back into their chatter and side conversations as she hurried away. 

After getting turned around a few times in the unfamiliar corridors, she made it back to her room. Taking advantage of what she assumed would be a rare moment of privacy, she got ready for bed, eagerly exchanging the pleated skirt and stiff white button up for a set of baggy sweatpants, tank top, and a soft hooded jumper. She brushed her teeth - religiously spending 30 seconds per quadrant of her mouth - and washed her face in the adjoining bathroom. 

Her roommates were still absent when she returned from the en suite (she wasn’t complaining), so she grabbed her Latin book and snuggled under her sheets for a bit of light reading. It was a good distraction, lest her thoughts spiral to the darker corners of her mind and dwell on how out of place and alone she felt. 

When she heard loud giggling from the hallway, she tossed her book aside and pretended to be asleep. Seconds later the three other girls came barging into the room. They briefly acknowledged her existence, at least enough to comment on her ‘bird’s nest for hair,’ which made her bristle but she didn’t react. She couldn’t give herself away. Besides, she’d been called worse. To add insult to injury, they didn’t care enough to tone down the volume of their conversation, thus subjecting her to an hour of listening to mindless drivel about various skin treatment regimes they were trying out, followed by two hours of their celebrity crushes. 

By midnight she was close to gouging out her own eardrums. Thankfully, the three gossip queens decided it was time to turn off the lights and silence filled the small room. Unfortunately for her, her mind was alert once more and she spent a few hours staring at the ceiling before sleep finally claimed her.

So instead of feeling rested and ready, she was already dragging as she pulled on her uniform and half-heartedly prepared for the day. She glared at her still sleeping roommates as she left, jealous that their internal clocks let them sleep later than half past five. Normally she would go for a run to start off her day and get the blood flowing, but she didn’t know the area and she was too tired to care. Maybe she would be feeling up to it tomorrow.

Uttering a sharp “Must be bloody nice” under her breath, she closed the door behind her. As much as she wanted to snap the door loudly, she reminded herself that she was not petty and therefore would not stoop to their level of inconsideration.

She ate breakfast alone, guzzling coffee in a futile attempt to pep herself up. Her parents would be beside themselves if they knew she was drinking coffee instead of tea, but what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. There were only a few other early risers in the Great Hall, so she hid behind her Calculus book to avoid detection. After breakfast she tucked herself away in the library to avoid the increasing breakfast traffic before she headed to her first class: biology. She had already taken a biology course at her previous school so this class promised to be a review for her. Which she didn’t mind because having science class at 8:45 each morning was just cruel. 

“Shit, not again!” Hermione hissed loudly as she found yet another dead end passageway to nowhere. She had gone over the route to her classrooms several times while she hid between the dusty bookshelves but she had managed to get herself turned around. Now she was woefully late. Clutching her map, she turned and tried a new direction. If she had wanted to avoid attention, being tardy was _not_ the way to do it. 

By process of elimination, she eventually found her classroom, taking a quick moment to compose herself before pushing the door open. 

“Err, hello, I apologize for being late, I got turned around.” Hermione ducked her head and flushed bright red when two dozen pairs of eyes suddenly turned to look at her. 

Professor Sprout, a short woman with curly grey hair, took the interruption in stride and offered her an earnest smile. “Ah, you must be Miss Granger! It’s no trouble. It happens to the best of us. We’re just glad you can join us. Everyone, this is Miss Granger, she’s new and I expect you all to make her feel welcome.” 

No one reacted or made any effort to ‘make her feel welcomed.’ 

Hermione cringed and tried to hide her grimace at Professor Sprout’s brief introduction. She knew the teacher was just being friendly but she didn’t want to draw more attention to herself than strictly necessary. 

“Thanks. I have my slip.” She held out a sheet of paper, nervously fiddling with the strap of her bag while she waited.

Sprout signed it and then directed her to her seat with the wave of her hand. “Here, there’s an open seat for you in the back there. Just follow along until you catch up.”

Hermione nodded to the shorter woman and did as she was told. She gave a forced smile that she knew wasn’t fooling anyone as she made her way through the tables, passively noting that students were sitting in pairs. She hoped her table would be empty. It would just be her luck that she got a lazy partner and would have to do all the work. She probably would anyway, regardless of her partner’s work ethic, but it was the principle of the matter.

She turned her eyes to the ground as she walked to avoid the stares, though she could still hear the whispers. 

“I heard that she got kicked out of her last school. What do you think… maybe drugs?”

“No way! Have you even looked at her?” 

“Yeah, man. She looks like a total goody two-shoes…”

“Wow… Lav wasn’t lying about the hair!”

“Who cares about the hair when she’s got an ass like that…”

Apparently her roommates had already started circulating gossip about her, which was ridiculous because she hadn’t breathed a word to any of them! She was mentally calculating all of the ways she could retaliate without detection, tuning out the stupid rumors and comments as she passed.

When she reached the back of the room her eyes flicked up and she faltered in her step. Her knees threatened to buckle beneath her and the air caught in her lungs. 

Fleur Delacour - the one and only Ginny-proclaimed glacier - was sitting at the only table with an opening. Her eyes were like flawless sapphires and were boring into her, watching her every movement. Now that she was seeing them up close, it was like looking into the depths of the ocean and for a moment, Hermione found herself simultaneously floating and drowning in them. She offered an awkward half-smile as she shuffled toward her seat, catching a whiff of expensive perfume. The subtle jasmine scent had her floating on clouds. 

However, the feeling didn’t last long, as the blonde’s neutral expression shifted from mildly curious to what could only be described as pure, unadulterated disgust, maybe even contempt, in a fraction of a second. It made her feel immediately defensive and Hermione bit back a sneer of her own. 

Ginny was right. Everything about Fleur was cold and unfriendly: her perfectly full lips were pursed together; her sharp nose was wrinkled as if she had smelled something unpleasant; her eyes narrowed and brow slightly furrowed. Her jaw was clenched so tight that Hermione could see the muscles were popping and twitching in the corners and the tendons in her neck were tense. 

Hermione regretted everything thinking that Fleur was attractive, though her traitorous mind still thought she was the most stunning woman she had ever seen. Objectively, at least. She might be an utter bitch but she was still a good looking one. 

_Damn it._

Hermione huffed and sat down on her stool. Curiosity getting the better of her, she snuck a quick glance out of the corner of her eye to double check that she wasn’t imagining things or maybe over reacting. No, the ice queen was still glaring, tense as ever. She briefly noted that Fleur’s hands were balled up into fists under the table, the knuckles white with strain. What was this girl’s problem? They hadn’t even talked, yet Fleur was looking at her like she had gotten her expelled or something equally horrible.

She attempted to distract herself by getting out her textbook and spiral notebook but she could feel Fleur’s gaze still on her. It was making her skin crawl. Her shirt suddenly felt too tight, her palms sweating lightly, and her knee high socks itched. She hated that Fleur was making her feel so anxious. It was just a look, for Pete’s sake! Why was it having such a profound effect on her? 

Despite every fiber of her being yelling at her to call her tablemate out on her unwarranted behavior, Hermione looked straight ahead. She would not give this girl the satisfaction of getting to her. No way, no how. She would not buckle and would ignore the blonde for the entire semester if she had to. And Hermione Granger was nothing if not stubborn. Once she set her mind, one would be hard pressed to change it. 

Sprout seemed blissfully unaware of the clash of wills happening in the back of the classroom and had resumed with her lecture on the basics of DNA and genetic mutations. 

Hermione was half-heartedly taking notes to pass the time and to prevent herself from fixing the blonde with a scathing glare of her own. Her pride was still demanding retribution. She couldn’t wait for class to be over so she wouldn’t have to endure another moment next to the ice queen. 

The only good thing that came out of being Fleur’s table partner was that the blonde seemed just as eager to get away from Hermione and was out of her chair the moment the bell rang. 

Hermione took her time putting her books away, wanting to put as much distance between herself and the blonde as possible. 

She was snapping her bag shut when a rough cough caught her attention. She glanced up and was met by two boys. One was relatively short, barely a few centimeters taller than her, with messy black hair and bright green eyes. The other was taller and lankier than his companion, a mop of red hair fell past his brows and he was constantly flicking his head to clear his vision. Why didn’t he just get a haircut? That would have been much more practical than repeatedly shaking his head like a wet dog. 

“You’re the new girl.” The redhead commented, needlessly.

“Well spotted,” Hermione shot back, pulling her bag onto her shoulder. She was in no mood for this. Whatever ‘this’ was.

Unperturbed by her rudeness, the redhead continued. “Name’s Ron. Ron Weasley. My sister mentioned that she gave you a tour yesterday.” Ron boldly held out his hand.

Hermione softened slightly, though she did remember Ginny’s warning that her brother could be an ass. She decided to tread carefully, opting to remain polite and neutral. Not necessarily friendly but not overtly rude either. “Pleasure.”

Ron grinned broadly when she accepted his greeting and shook her hand for a few seconds longer than strictly necessary. 

Hermione instantly regretted accepting his gesture. His large hand completely encompassed her own and his palm was sweaty, and she wanted nothing more than for him to let go. She saw his eyes were wandering southward and it made her outwardly shudder as she wrenched her hand from his grasp. She almost would have preferred enduring Fleur’s arctic glares to this.

“We heard you at the beginning of class… ya know, that got turned around…” 

Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes and snark back with “you and everyone else…” since it was the first thing she had said when she entered the classroom earlier. Before she could retort, the other boy stepped forward.

“What Ron is meaning to say is that we wanted to know if you needed help getting to your next class. This place is a bloody maze. Took me all of freshman year to figure it out.” The other boy played damage control, either sensing the tension and her rapidly dissolving patience, or that he had realized that his friend was about to make a bigger ass of himself by pursuing someone completely uninterested in him. She was thankful whichever the case may be but didn’t question it. 

Hermione blinked. That was not what she was expecting. While she normally would have rebuffed such an offer, she remembered her previous struggle to find this classroom, so she swallowed her pride. “Oh, uh, that would be lovely, actually. I have…” she checked her timetable, “History with Binns next.”

“Well you’re in luck, that’s right where I’m heading next. I’m Harry Potter, by the way.”

Hermione liked Harry instantly. There was something genuinely friendly about him, whereas she could still feel Ron’s eyes lingering in places they shouldn’t and was questioning his ulterior motives. Honestly, had the redhead never seen a girl before? Normally she would have shut him down then and there but she wanted to stay on good terms with his sister and wasn’t entirely sure how to proceed. Maybe she should mention it to Ginny? Would that make her a snitch though?

“Nice to make your acquaintance, I’m Hermione Granger,” she responded politely, shaking the proffered hand.

“Oh, we know. You’re the talk of the school!” Harry laughed wryly and started for the door with the others in tow. 

“Yeah, I figured as much. I really wanted to avoid that but it seems that plan is out the window.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Harry shrugged as he held the door. “It will blow over in a week or so.”

Hermione smiled back, actually feeling encouraged by Harry’s words. She easily fell into step beside him. Mercifully, Ron had peeled off at some point to go to his class in a different wing, and the pair shared a light conversation on their way to History. As an added bonus, she had completely forgotten about Fleur’s strange behavior. 

That distraction lasted all of two hours, as Hermione found herself once again in class with the aloof blonde, calculus this time. At least there were individual desks she opted to sit as far away as possible from Fleur. Even still, she had the niggling feeling that she was being watched, and the few times she allowed herself to glance over her gaze was met by that same arctic stare. It was… weird. 

“Wow… did you like, kick a puppy in front of Delacour or what? She’s looking like she wants to actually murder you…” Angelina laughed as she shoved a bite of meatloaf into her mouth.

Hermione groaned and slammed her glass down on the table a little harder than she intended, apple juice sloshing over the rim and onto her hand. It only added to her annoyance and she (irrationally) blamed the blonde girl.

“No! I don’t know what her bloody issue is. And I’m stuck being her lab partner in biology!”

“Damn, tha’s rough…” Ginny mumbled past her mouthful of cereal. The redhead could really pack it away when she was hungry. “Tol’ you she wa’ a weird’un.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to let her get to me. If she wants to have a civil conversation with me, then maybe we can talk… But that’s a big maybe.”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you. She and her sister keep to themselves. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them interacting with anyone else. Fleur at least. Gabrielle can be friendly when she wants to be.” Angelina offered, her arm draped casually over Alicia’s shoulders. Hermione had found it refreshing to see there were other same-sex couples at the school and no one seemed to pay it any mind. It was a far cry from some of the more conservative places she had lived in. Even though she wasn’t obvious about her sexuality, she was grateful that she didn’t have to temporarily stuff herself back in the closet. 

Hermione paused. For some reason, Angelina’s words struck a chord and she felt a pang of… empathy. She knew what it was like being the loner and recognized that, like her in her previous schools, Fleur and her sister appeared to be widely unaccepted by the other students. Then again, it also seemed that the platinum beauties brought a lot of it on themselves. So maybe she didn’t feel _that_ bad. But for that brief moment, her previous annoyance was replaced by a sense of understanding. 

She didn’t dwell on this thought for too long, the memory of heated glares still fresh on her mind. She had done a little reflecting on their brief interaction from that morning, trying to figure out if she had done something to set the other girl against her. Aside from existing, she couldn’t think of anything out of the ordinary. 

Whatever. If Fleur wanted to apologize, then she would accept it and maybe they could at least try to co-exist peacefully. But until then, she wasn’t going to bother any more than she had to.

“So, aside from getting saddled with Fleur as a lab partner, how were your other classes?”

“They were fine. Most of it is review, so this should be an easy year.” Hermione shrugged dismissively. “Oh, your brother has roaming eyes.”

“Ugh, he’s such a prat,” Ginny groaned. “Do you want me to beat him up for you?”

“No, that’s fine. I don’t need you to fight my battles for me, I just wanted to let you know and I didn’t want to make things weird between us if I said something to him.”

“Not that you need it, but you have full permission to lay into him. About time he had someone put him in his place.”

Hermione laughed, feeling reassured that Ginny was on her side. It was nice to be a part of a group for a change. “Well, good, because he’s definitely barking up the wrong tree… Anyway, I’ve got to go try to do some research for Latin tomorrow. I’ll catch you all later.” 

She dropped her used dishes off at the dishroom window and hurried to the library, pointedly ignoring the set of pale blue eyes that followed her as she moved through the Hall.


	3. Chapter 3

Despite her initial reservations, Hermione found her transition to life at Hogwarts Academy had gone much smoother than she had anticipated, and three weeks had passed before she knew it. It unnerved her how easily she fell into a rhythm, and even more so how easily she had made friends among Ginny’s social circle. Well, maybe not ‘friends’ per se, but she was on good terms with them. 

She still put very little effort into socializing beyond what was deemed polite, with the exception of Harry and Ginny, and therefore Luna. At first she thought that was a strange pairing but after careful observation it somehow made sense. Luna’s quiet, whimsical outlook offset Ginny’s shoot-from-the-hip, act-now-think-never attitude and they actually balanced each other out while challenging one another in positive ways.

Ron was also behaving, thankfully. He had backed off as soon as she told him she was a lesbian and had absolutely no interest in dating him. They actually forged an interesting level of acquaintance and understanding, mostly consisting of him asking her advice about women. It was a case of the blind leading the blind, as she had never actually dated any girls, either. Still, she humored his ridiculous questions and offered her perspective. If nothing else, it was good for a laugh. 

Mercifully, the rumors surrounding her unexpected arrival had died down after the first week, just as Harry had reassured her they would. There was still the random judgmental or snide comment here or there but it definitely wasn’t as bad as she had been anticipating. Hermione also suspected that Ginny had something to do with this. The fiery rugby player turned out to be very protective of her friends and could be downright scary when she wanted to be. It was just as reasonable to attribute the lack of bullying to the fact that the usual suspects had simply outgrown childhood pettiness. Or maybe it was because of the differences between private and public schools. Regardless of the reason, it was a nice change of pace compared to her previous experiences. It seemed that everyone at Hogwarts Academy more or less kept to their own lane and didn’t really mingle outside of their group. This suited Hermione just fine. 

There were speed bumps, of course. She still couldn’t stand being in her dorm when the other girls were present, at least while she was conscious. She avoided her room as much as possible, spending her evenings in the library or one of the secluded nooks she had inadvertently discovered while aimlessly wandering the corridors. But being alone never bothered her, so spending hours on end tucked away between the dusty shelves was more of a blessing than punishment. An added benefit of spending all of her free time in the library was that she managed to catch up in her classes in less than a week. Even Latin, which had been a source of anxiety until she realized just how similar it was to French. Then it was just a matter of memorizing vocabulary and tenses.

The only other part of her life that still felt out of place was her mysterious Biology partner. While Fleur no longer openly glared at her, she was still moody and reserved. 

She and Fleur had barely traded more than a few dozen words since her first day of classes, and their ‘conversations’ were always class related. No idle chit chat or insincere filler, just one word answers exchanged only if absolutely necessary. Aside from their lack of speaking, they actually worked well together during their labs and often were the first table to finish the assignment. Unfortunately, this meant they were forced to sit in tense silence while they waited for the rest of the class to finish up, as Sprout didn’t do early dismissals. 

Normally the silent treatment wouldn’t have bothered Hermione, seeing as she herself wasn’t particularly outgoing. Nor was she keen on being the first to offer an olive branch, as she was still nursing a bit of a sore spot from their first interaction. It had really rubbed her the wrong way and she had spent more time than she cared to admit wondering what she had done to merit such a visceral reaction that day. Eventually she had stopped thinking about it, refusing to put any effort into someone who clearly wanted nothing to do with her. 

But no matter. Aside from the massive library, there were plenty of distractions to keep her overly busy mind occupied. Rather, there was one very persistent distraction that regularly demanded her attention. 

“Oy!! There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!” 

Hermione jumped, painfully banging her knees on the underside of the table she had commandeered for the evening. She determined that she would never get used to Ginny’s sneak attacks. The girl was remarkably stealthy when she wanted to be and seemed to revel in catching Hermione off guard. 

She grimaced and rubbed the tender skin as she hissed through her teeth. It was a small miracle she hadn’t shrieked in surprise but she had a good amount of self control. Besides, she was in the library. It wouldn’t do to raise a commotion and get in trouble. 

Ginny just grinned as she waltzed past the glowering brunette. She had changed out of her uniform and was sporting a long sleeve, checkered flannel shirt and jeans, her thick red hair done in a loose braid. Unperturbed by Hermione’s withering glare, she plopped down in the chair opposite of Hermione and kicked her feet up on the table with a loud thud. 

“Shhh! Are you trying to get me kicked out of here?!” Hermione stopped massaging her leg and cast a nervous glance toward the stern librarian’s desk. 

Madam Pince suffered no fools. This was her domain and she did not tolerate shenanigans on her watch. 

Ginny rocked the chair back, balancing it on its rear legs, and fixed her with a grin that would make the Cheshire Cat proud. “As a matter of fact… come on, we’re late. We’ve got places to go.” She stood abruptly, swiftly kicking the chair back into place.

“That’s funny, I don’t remember having anything on my schedule… I must have missed the memo.” Hermione rolled her eyes and went back to scanning the textbooks. 

“Nuh-uh, it’s Friday night and I won’t have you cooping yourself up like this any longer. I let it slide the first few weekends cuz you were getting caught up and stuff but enough is enough! Trust me, having a little fun won’t kill you.” Ginny ignored the grumbled ‘I wouldn’t count on that’ and was now closing the open books that littered the tabletop.

“Hey! You could have at least let me mark my place!” Hermione huffed incredulously as her book was snapped shut right under her nose. “And just what exactly is so urgent that I need to drop everything and follow you?”

“It’s a secret, but you’re gonna love it! Trust me!” Ginny chirped excitedly. “School tradition! Now get your stuff, we’re late!” 

Knowing the redhead would never give up, Hermione knew it was pointless to argue and decided she would be better off just throwing in the towel. The alternative was going back and forth arguing with Ginny and reaching the same result. As tempting as it was to tell Ginny to sod off, she didn’t feel like expending unnecessary energy at the moment. Something told her that she would need it later, as Ginny’s insistence that she simply ‘trust her’ was more than a little disconcerting. 

“Fine. I’ll come with you, but only if you show my books a little more respect.” Hermione conceded and began carefully loading her pack. 

“Eeee! Good! Meet us out front of the Great Hall in thirty! And wear something warm. We’re going out.” Ginny bolted out of the library, earning a ‘No running!’ from the crabby librarian. 

Hermione released an exasperated huff as she pulled her pack onto her shoulders and rubbed her tired eyes.

_Dear god, what had she just agreed to?_

What she agreed to turned out to be a bonfire somewhere deep in the forest adjacent to school grounds. Hermione had to admit (albeit begrudgingly) that rich kids knew how to throw parties, and it quickly became apparent why they had set up so far from school grounds. The music was loud and drinks were flowing. Which would have been all fine and good if she actually liked going to parties. Or had ever been to a party, for that matter. As it was, nothing about a big fire and underage drinking was remotely appealing to her and she was seriously questioning her friend’s judgement. Sometimes Ginny could be a real arse.

And the cherry on top was that it was absolutely freezing out! At least the party site was in a sheltered part of the forest and it wasn’t so bad when standing near the roaring flames. The same couldn’t be said for the walk there. A bitter wind cut straight through her jumper and thick parka as easily as if her clothes were made of tissue. 

The mind-numbing cold only served to sour her mood further and after nearly twenty minutes of tromping blindly through the forest with Ginny and some of her rugby mates, she was on the verge of just giving up and retreating back to the warmth and safety of the Academy. Of course that was the exact moment that the bright lights of several fires could be spotted in the distance. 

Once the group got to the party, the others slowly dispersed, each going their separate way when something or someone caught their eye. Hermione stuck by the redhead but at some point in time she turned around and found herself standing alone. She spent the next several minutes cursing Ginny to hell and back before she tried to formulate a plan. 

As much as she would have loved to just leave, she didn’t feel comfortable with trying to navigate the woods back to campus. As far as she could tell, the path was unmarked and was something the students had simply memorized after years of sneaking out. So she was stuck there for god-knows-how-long until someone else decided to go back. 

It appeared that the other partygoers had been there for a while, as the ground was littered with trash and several people were already swaying on their feet. It made her uncomfortable on so many levels and she was torn between trying to pass the evening unnoticed by blending into the shadows and staying close to the warmth of the fires. In the end her desire to not freeze to death won out. Unfortunately, that meant others noticed her presence. Several people she had never spoken to approached her, offering her a drink or conversation. Neither of which she wanted to engage in. Apparently alcohol lowered inhibitions and the usual cliques that rarely mingled together had dissolved for the evening. 

After being harangued for not drinking, she finally gave into peer pressure and accepted a red cup full of cheap ale; though she had yet to consume any of it. But it did keep people from approaching her. 

She had spotted Harry and Ron at some point but decided against going to talk with them when she noticed two of her three roommates were draped on their arms. Cho and Lavender, specifically. She was glad the boys were enjoying themselves but she thought they could do better. _Ugh, boys._ Well, she would just keep that opinion to herself. 

Without anyone to talk to, she wandered away from the party, finding a small satellite fire pit a ways off from the main pit. It was unused and she happily settled down on a log to pass the time. Finally, a little peace and quiet.

“Hey, Hermione, glad you could make it!”

 _Well, it was nice while it lasted._

Hermione turned toward the voice, offering a small smile when she saw it was Katie Bell. 

She had a big smile on her face and two red cups in her hands. Her face fell when she saw the drink clutched in Hermione’s gloved hands, though she recovered quickly. “I was looking for you. Weasley said she managed to wrangle you out of the library. I didn’t believe her at first but here you are.”

Hermione blinked, surprised by the other girl’s words. _Why was Katie looking for her?_ Sure, they saw each other during meals and they had Literature class together, but they hadn’t really talked before. Definitely not one-on-one like this. 

“Oh, hi there, Katie.” She replied simply, curious to see where this was going. 

“What are you doing out here away from the party?” Katie gestured to the open spot on the log next to her and sat before actually getting a response. 

“Just needed to clear my head. This isn’t really my scene.”

“I see, well… not that I’m complaining but why did you come? You look kinda miserable.”

“Ginny dragged me out here. Wouldn’t tell me what was going on until we were already deep in the sodding woods. I don’t know how to get back.” Hermione’s annoyance - which had been a cool simmer up until Katie’s arrival - boiled up. She tried not to take it out on the new arrival, but once she got going on her tirade, the words kept flowing. Most of it revolved around Ginny and the number of ways she planned to make the younger girl suffer for her duplicity, but some was completely random and unrelated. 

Katie listened patiently, drinking her beer as Hermione went off. She had finished the first cup by the time Hermione ended her rant.

“Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk so much.”

Hermione had the decency to look sheepish, “Sorry for laying that all out on you. I guess I’d been holding in a lot more than I realized.”

“It’s fine. Besides, it sounds like you had a lot to get off your chest. And I like listening to you talk,” Katie added quietly, mumbling into her drink. 

Hermione didn’t fail to notice the blush that crept over Katie’s cheeks, nor the way her soft hazel eyes occasionally drifted to her lips before shooting back up to meet her eyes. 

“So…” Hermione, as outspoken as she was, was at a loss for words. Katie’s shy behavior was rather out of character for the usually confident young woman and it threw her off her guard. Her mind raced to find possible reasons, though she kept coming up empty. 

She rubbed the back of her neck, fingers carding through her thick curls that were trapped against her nape by her knitted beanie as she tried to think of something to say. Small talk had never been her forte. “Gin mentioned this was a school tradition or something. If you guys do this each year, why pick a time that is so damn cold? And how the hell did they get so much beer out here?”

“Oh, yeah. Not sure when it started but it was tradition long before I got here. As for the timing, I don’t know, but the first weekend in November is bonfire night. Doesn’t correlate with any holiday or anything significant as far as I know, but it’s still fun. The senior class coordinates it each year, though anyone can attend. I don’t know who got the kegs, honestly.”

“I see…” Hermione looked down at her cup, “Well, you all know how to go all out…”

“Yeah. It’s a big deal for a lot of us since we graduate this year. Maybe that’s where the tradition came from? Like a last hurrah before we go our separate ways. I don't know why it would be in autumn, though... It’s weird how you get used to being around the same people after living with them for so long. Makes me nervous for what comes next, you know? Like high school is one thing but university? And then the real world?” Katie started babbling, taking sips intermittently from the second cup she had brought. The one she had intended to offer Hermione. 

If not for the thick tension between them, Hermione might have found it endearing. She was starting to suspect that Katie had sought her out for reasons other than to tell her about how nervous she was to hear back from college applications. The thought that someone was potentially interested in her made her heart leap and filled her stomach with excited butterflies. Maybe she was jumping to hasty conclusions. Perhaps Katie was just being friendly. Regardless, Hermione found herself observing the other brunette as she rambled, taking note of features she hadn’t really appreciated before. 

Unlike Fleur, Katie was warm. While Fleur was cold and standoffish, Katie bubbled with energy. She had soft, touchable features, whereas Fleur was sharp and angular. But both were beautiful in their own way. Hermione watched the way the firelight danced across her cheeks, mesmerized by the shadows. ‘ _Wait, why am I comparing Katie to Fleur?’_

“Uh, Granger? You still with me?” Katie’s hand flashing in front of her face pulled Hermione abruptly from her thoughts.

“S-sorry…” she stammered, quickly trying to formulate an excuse. “I didn’t mean to zone out, it uh… must be the beer. What was it you said?”

Whether Katie noticed the still full cup in Hermione’s hands or not, she didn’t comment or question it. She just nodded her head in understanding. “It’s alright… I was just wondering if you’d like to go to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow. It’s the little town nearby and sometimes we go there to kill time. It’s nice. There’s small shops and stuff… maybe we could get a bite to eat.”

“Oh, uh, right…” Hermione blinked, taken off guard by having just been asked out completely out of the blue. Whatever she thought Katie had been angling at, this wasn’t it. She opened her mouth to respond but was cut off by a sharp voice.

“There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you. You wandered off and I was worried.” 

Hermione and Katie whirled around so fast they almost knocked each other off the log. Standing just a few feet behind them was a tall, imposing figure, staring them down, the moon illuminating her platinum hair and pale skin. The fire reflecting in her eyes made her look possessed by the devil himself, adding a new level of deadly to her already withering glare.

“Delacour? Fuck, why didn’t you tell me you came here with her?” Katie looked quickly between Hermione and Fleur, her eyes wide with shock and confusion. 

“I… uh…” Hermione stammered, equally surprised by Fleur’s sudden appearance. 

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have… never mind… I'll see you around, Granger.” Katie trailed off as she jumped to her feet and made a hasty retreat as cool blue eyes shot daggers into her. 

Hermione barely registered Katie’s panicked departure, her mind was playing catch up and trying to figure out what the hell was going on. But try as she might, she was only able to focus on one thought, and it wasn’t anything useful like ‘why was Fleur at the party and why was she interrupting them?’ 

It _should_ have struck her as odd that the blonde, who never showed any interest in interacting with her peers, had heard about the late fall tradition, let alone deigned to show up. The haughty girl always regarded everyone as if they were beneath her, so why was she willingly subjecting herself to being around them? Especially while most were drunk and acting like fools. So a party was literally the last place she would ever imagine running into Fleur. 

Katie’s reaction was strange, too. Hermione had seen the athlete be more than willing to square up when on the rugby pitch, so for her to just roll over and run away? Fleur was certainly intimidating at this moment but the brunette’s reaction seemed a little extreme. 

These would have been perfectly logical thoughts and questions to unpack. Hell, even trying to figure out why Fleur would tell such a blatant lie would have been a perfectly reasonable response. But no. What had Hermione Granger’s mind short circuiting had nothing to do with any of that. It was too preoccupied with looking the other girl up and down.

Hermione blinked dumbly at the blonde, who was still looking extremely put out, her arms folded across her chest and her hip cocked to the side, caught up in her casual appearance. She had never seen Fleur out of her uniform before, and as much as it pained Hermione to admit it, Fleur looked positively stunning.

The French girl was wearing tight dark jeans and a cream colored cashmere jumper, which probably cost more than her entire wardrobe combined. She had knee high leather boots and finished her look off with a long grey pea coat. Her hair was done up in an elaborate fishtail braid that draped over her shoulder. It looked like she had just walked out of a fashion magazine. It really wasn’t fair how effortlessly beautiful Fleur was. 

She, on the other hand, felt sorely underdressed in her cable-knit jumper and poofy winter parka. Her cheeks burned hot for a moment as a wave of self-consciousness swept over her. This was quickly replaced by dread when she realized that Fleur was returning the glances; blue eyes swept over her body but betrayed no reaction. As if studying her. Judging her, more likely. 

Thankfully, the feeling of ice settling in her stomach was all the prompting Hermione needed to kick her brain back into gear. 

“What the hell was that for?” Hermione seethed as she regained her bearings, jumping to her feet to confront the other girl. Her hands flew to her hips and she adopted a dominant posture in an attempt to be intimidating. Well, as intimidating as she could be when facing down someone over half a head taller than her. Regardless of the somewhat comical height difference, she meant business and Fleur would do well to recognize that. 

Fleur, in direct contrast, had slid back into her aloof, bored persona. The fire still burned in her eyes but her posture had lost all hostility. _God, her mood swings were enough to give anyone whiplash._

“What do you mean?” Fleur asked innocently as she inspected her nails.

“I mean you hardly say anything to me for weeks and then you just pop out of nowhere and scare off a perfectly nice girl? Who the fuck do you think you are?” Hermione wasn’t pulling her punches. Not only was she annoyed about what had just transpired, but she still had a bone to pick. This was the first time she and Fleur had spoken and she wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to let the other girl know exactly what she thought. 

“Bah,” Fleur waved her hand dismissively, which only served to irritate Hermione more. “She was a mess, you could do much better.”

Hermione knew she shouldn’t rise and take the bait, but she bit anyway. “Oh yeah? Because I thought she was perfectly polite. And she’s smart and funny and at least she listens to me! But since I’m so misguided, please, enlighten me, since you seem to know what’s best. I’d just _love_ to know your opinion. Who has Fleur Delacour’s approval? Not that I bloody need your permission for anything, nor do I actually care!”

“I’m just saying you shouldn’t settle for the first girl who gives you attention.”

Hermione blinked owlishly and took a step back as if Fleur had just slapped her. “How _dare_ you judge me? Who I choose to spend my time with is none of your business or concern!”

“I am not judging, merely stating a fact.”

“Look, I still don’t know who the hell you think you are that gives you any right to just swoop in like that but I’ll have you know, I do not appreciate it one bit!” Hermione turned on her heel and made to stalk off. She made it a total of three paces before she whirled around and returned to the unmoving girl, entering her space and jabbing an accusatory finger into her chest. “What are you even doing out here?”

“I told you, I was looking for you.”

Hermione threw her hands in the air, losing what bit of patience she had left “So you’ve said. I meant why are you at this party? It doesn’t seem like the place you’d ever be caught dead in.”

“Everyone is welcomed here.” Fleur shrugged. “I was curious so I came. Is it that difficult to imagine?”

“Yeah, actually. You never talk with anyone and I’ve only seen you interact with Gabrielle. You walk around like we’re all beneath you and then insert yourself into a situation that you had absolutely no reason to be in…” Hermione took a deep breath in a fruitless attempt to calm herself. “And why me?”

“What about you? Be more specific.”

“You said you were looking for me, which I have a hard time believing. You hate me. And make no mistake, the feeling is not one sided.” Hermione paused her rant when an unpleasant thought crossed her mind. “Wait… were you… jealous? Is that why you scared Katie off?”

Fleur straightened her back but gave no other reaction. She opened her mouth as if to speak but closed it, opting to stare at the shorter girl for a few beats. A mischievous glint flashed in her eyes and her lips tugged into a half smile. 

“You seem to know a lot about my socializing habits. Tell me, Mademoiselle Granger, have you been watching me? I’m quite flattered.”

“I… you… Ugh!” Hermione had been ramping up for another scathing remark but Fleur’s taunt threw her for a loop. And that bloody, infuriating smirk! She had it in her mind to just slap it off the smug girl’s face but she was not about to resort to violence. Not when her battles could be fought with words. “Look, I don’t know why you’re here or if you get some sick pleasure from toying with other people, but you’re not welcome! Why don’t you just sod off and leave me the bloody hell alone!”

“I was about to head back to campus and thought you might like to join me. The woods are dangerous.” Fleur’s rapid changes of direction were really giving her whiplash. 

“What about the past ten minutes makes you think that I would ever want to walk back with you? Should I say it again? We aren’t friends! We’re just stuck working together to get through our stupid biology class, got it? You don’t like me and I don’t like you!”

Hurt flashed through the taller girl’s eyes before they turned icy and cold once more; defenses carefully back in place. Hermione internally celebrated the fact that she managed to get some sort of reaction from the ice queen. If it were anyone else she would have felt remorse… No, she had been raised to take the high road, no matter who she was talking to. Even if it was Fleur. _Damn it and damn her conscience!_

Her shoulders dropped and her voice softened slightly. “Look, I’m sorry that you went out of your way unnecessarily, but I think I’ll take my chances by waiting for my friends.”

“Fine. Suit yourself.” Without a second glance, Fleur pivoted on the spot and stalked off. 

Hermione watched Fleur’s shadow disappear into the darkness. She wasn’t expecting the blonde to give up so easily. Part of her screamed to go with her, that she really did need rescuing from this party. But her pride kept her rooted to the spot. 

_What the hell just happened?_


	4. Chapter 4

After the party, Hermione was torn between wanting to keep her distance from and wanting to confront the antagonizing blonde. She stayed in her room all Saturday morning, replaying the bizarre interaction in her head on an endless loop. She tried looking at it from different perspectives, studying the word choices, body language, tone. Anything for a hint or a clue that might explain Fleur’s behavior. After what seemed like a hundredth time, she still couldn’t make heads or tails of it. 

Thankfully her roommates were preoccupied with their own weekend trip to Hogsmeade, which only reminded her of Katie’s hopeful eyes waiting for a response to her invite before Fleur interrupted. She felt a pang of guilt when she thought about the way things happened with Katie but she couldn’t do anything about it now. She had tried texting Katie a few times but saw the messages were left as received but unread. When the third message went unreturned, she set her phone down and pulled out her homework as a distraction. After half an hour of staring at her history essay, all she had managed to put down on paper were nonsensical doodles in the margins.

“This is why I don’t make friends! People are so complicated and it’s not worth the aggravation!” She spoke to no one in particular as she shoved her books and homework back in her bag for tomorrow’s library visit. Even as she said the words, she knew it wasn’t entirely true. She had actually enjoyed becoming part of the group; the camaraderie helped her transition easily to life at the boarding school. The rugby girls had been nothing but accepting and she shouldn’t blame them for her foul mood. 

The blame lay solely with Fleur fucking Delacour. Fleur and her stupid mind tricks and that infuriating smirk. Even thinking the name made her blood spike but she didn’t want to give the blonde goddess the satisfaction of getting a rise out of her. No, that settled it. She would simply ignore Fleur. It is what she had determined she would do after their first interaction and she saw no need to waver now. Besides, the French girl had done nothing to earn her attention or respect. 

At a quarter to noon, Hermione pulled on her shoes and a thick wool jumper and headed out. A walk around the grounds to clear her head was just what she needed. 

Her thoughts drifted back to Katie as she meandered through the corridors to the Great Hall to grab a to go lunch. Guilt still weighed heavily on her; ugly and oppressive. It pulled her down and she desperately wanted to shake it off. She would respect the girl’s need for space and didn’t want to come off as pushy but she wanted to make amends. She felt some of the blame was on her shoulders. If she hadn’t stood there gaping like a fish and told Fleur to sod off when she had the chance, maybe Katie wouldn’t have run away. Instead of tromping through the grounds alone, maybe they would be sharing a mug of hot cocoa, or Katie would be showing her the best shops to visit. She didn’t know if she had any feelings for Katie nor had she realized the other girl was interested in her, but what she had told Fleur was true. Katie was a good person. She was funny, smart, and gentle, and she deserved to be treated in kind, even if they just remained friends. 

So… What could she do to make it up to the sporty brunette? 

The first rugby match was the following weekend, so there were some possibilities there. Technically it was just a friendly scrimmage, a way for the schools to get a taste for the upcoming spring season. But it was still exciting. She had never been one to care about school sports before, but being semi-friends with a good percentage of the team tended to influence one’s perspective. 

Satisfied with her plan and wrapped sandwiches in hand, she set off for the forest. She had hated feeling so reliant on others to navigate the woods the night before, so she wanted to start familiarizing herself with the territory.

It was an uncharacteristically clear day for this time of year, not that Hermione was complaining. The warm sun made the outside temperature tolerable for a walk in just her jumper and jeans. She probably should have brought her coat but she didn’t plan on being out that long. 

The forest was much more colorful in the light of day. Thick evergreens created a spotty canopy that allowed for light to filter down to the forest floor. The sun shone on the waxy needles, causing them to shimmer like tiny emeralds. Of all the places she had lived, this was quickly becoming one of her favorites. There were no blowing of horns or other sounds of traffic that accompanied bustling cities. No one was yelling across the street or pushing into her as they rushed along the sidewalk. It was just her and the forest. 

She made little markers out of sticks and stones along her walk to form a trail to follow back to school later. It felt good to stretch her legs. She had skipped her morning run around the grounds and she had energy to burn.

She wandered for an hour or so, enjoying the brisk weather and the solitude. To her delight, she came across a large pond in a grassy clearing, though the grass had long turned brown. Hermione envisioned it at the height of summer, surrounded by lush grass, maybe the shores were sprinkled with wildflowers with dragonflies and bees flitting from bloom to bloom. The edge of the pond was encircled with ice but the center remained unfrozen. 

She sat down under a large spruce and ate her sandwiches, watching as a flock of ducks paddled around. She laughed when she saw the ducks occasionally invert themselves, their webbed feet paddling air as their feathered arses stuck straight up as they foraged for food beneath the surface. 

This was simple. Peaceful. She would have to return in the future.

Stomach satisfied, she sighed and closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the rough bark. The sounds of nature gave her something to focus on other than her stupid girl drama. If someone told her a year ago that she would be dealing with a situation like this, she probably would have laughed in their face. 

Hermione woke with a jolt to the sound of loud quacking and splashing as the ducks took to the air. She shivered and looked around in the dimming light. The sun was already dipping below the tree line and Hermione knew she needed to get back to school as fast as possible. She checked her wristwatch. 

_15:45._

“Fucking hell.” She jumped to her feet and ran a hand through her curls, trying to formulate a plan. Sundown was in approximately 45 minutes and it had taken her an hour to find the pond. There was a good chance of her freezing if she got caught out here with naught but her jumper for warmth.

“You should have brought your bloody coat!” She hissed, berating herself for her lack of oversight. A few quick swipes removed any dirt and needles from the seat of her pants, and she hurried back up her makeshift trail. She decided to power walk rather than full out run. Working up a sweat would only serve to speed up hypothermia. 

As she walked, she got the sinking feeling that something wasn’t right. The further she walked, the more on edge she became. The hairs on her nape stood on end and her skin crawled as if something was watching her. She spun around, squinting out into the trees. Nothing was there. 

She willed her legs to move again, but the uneasy feeling persisted.

“Don’t be paranoid, just keep moving. If something was following you, you’d hear it.” She whispered to herself to calm her nerves. “And there are no predators in the area. It’s all in your head.” There weren’t, of course. She had done her research on the area as soon as her father announced the location of their next move and revealed the plans for her new school. The wolves and bears that once hunted in the Highlands were driven to extinction from over hunting. The biggest threat was maybe a fox, and those tended to avoid confrontation. Oh, and the fabled Scottish Wildcat, but those were very rare. And adorable. Definitely not a threat. Mentally evaluating Scotland’s native species was a welcome distraction as she moved through the trees. 

She checked her watch again when the final rays of sun disappeared.

_16:40._

That didn’t make sense. She has been walking for almost an hour and much faster than her journey out. She should be back by now. Had she missed one of her markers and taken a wrong turn? In retrospect, piles of sticks and stones weren't exactly the best design… 

In a stroke of clarity, she grabbed her mobile to call for help. She pulled up Ginny’s number and clicked the call button. 

_Beep, beep, beep_ … no signal. 

Blood started pounding in her ears as her heart started to race. She had suffered enough anxiety attacks to recognize the early signs. This was not the time to fall to pieces.

“Relax… breathe… in, out…” she coached as she forced herself to follow her breathing exercise. _In for two seconds, hold for four, out for two. Repeat._

The silence reigned supreme, punctuated only by her breaths. She wrapped her arms around her torso, giving herself a reassuring squeeze. Also because the temperature had dropped several degrees and it was all she could do to conserve body heat. 

Feeling slightly calmer, she decided the best option was to try to retrace her steps and find one of her markers. Even if there was no way to call, at least she had her flashlight app. 

With a shaky breath, she did an about face and started to pick her way through the undergrowth, waving the phone in broad strokes to search for one of her markers. She hummed quietly to herself in a desperate attempt to calm herself and not dwell on the fact that she was totally screwed. 

A twig snapped loudly behind her and she pivoted, heart leaping into her throat as her stomach dropped. She was too startled to scream, a strangled gasp was all she could manage. Her phone slipped from her grasp, followed by the telltale sound of glass screen cracking. 

She stared in the direction the sound had come from, tense and chest heaving. After a few beats of silence, she heard a sound that she never imagined she would ever be grateful to hear.

“‘ermione?” 

Fleur seemingly appeared out of the shadows, standing a few feet from her. She couldn’t fully see the girl in the darkness, but she would never mistake that voice nor the French accent. 

“Fl-Fleur?!” Hermione stammered. Without thinking, she lunged at her savior, arms wrapping around her slender waist. She clung to the French girl like she was her only lifeline and if she relented her grasp, then Fleur would slip back into the night. She barely registered the surprised squeak, followed by a soft grunt at the impact, too focused on maintaining her grip on Fleur. A raspy sob slipped past her lips, muffled by the expensive wool coat. Normally, she would be loath to display emotion or weakness so openly, but in this moment she couldn’t have cared less. She didn’t care that she likely looked like a madwoman or that her previous annoyance and frustration was instantly forgotten. 

For her part, Fleur didn’t push the shorter girl away, though she remained rigid and didn’t return the hug. She awkwardly patted Hermione’s shoulder once, twice, as if unsure what else she should do. She spoke once the crying dwindled to a few sniffles and Hermione had a better grasp on herself. 

“Would you care to tell me why you are out here all alone?” Her tone was sharp but lacked its usual cold edge. 

“I didn’t mean to, I went for a walk and fell asleep!” 

“You should really be more careful.” 

Hermione murmured an incoherent response and instinctively clutched Fleur tighter, seeking comfort in the embrace. She smiled to herself, surprised by how soft Fleur felt. It was not at all what she expected from the statuesque woman. Instead of hardened marble, Fleur felt like a comfortable pillow. _Wait. Pillow?_ Hermione squeaked, immediately extricating her body from where she had buried herself in Fleur’s bosom. A scarlet blush sped over her cheeks when she realized what she had done. 

“I- I- I’m so sorry! It was dark, I couldn’t see! I didn’t realize!” Hermione stammered, looking anywhere but towards Fleur. She fully expected the blonde goddess to slap her and wouldn’t hold it against her if she had. 

“Please, look at me.” It was both a command and a plea. 

Reluctantly, Hermione raised her gaze. She had expected the same cold glare that she had seen the first day in biology. At least this time she earned it, albeit unintentionally. She certainly didn’t make a habit of sticking her face in other girls’ boobs. 

But Fleur didn’t look upset in the slightest. Her blue eyes held nothing but concern and something else she couldn’t quite determine. It was almost… ‘ _No, that doesn’t make sense, stop trying to read anything into this’_ Hermione silently chided herself as she continued to stare. They shone like multifaceted sapphires in the dark. They were beautiful. No, not beautiful, that didn’t do them justice. Spellbinding. Hermione felt herself falling into their icy depths with each passing second, the world disappeared around her. She stared, unable to look away, and hellbent on committing each detail to memory.

“As entertaining as this is, I believe we should get you back to campus now.” Fleur broke the silence and Hermione shook her head to clear the fog that settled over her mind. 

“Uh, yeah…” she responded, rubbing her eyes, barely aware of Fleur’s movements. “Wait, what are you doing?!”

“Hush. You’re borderline hypothermic.” Fleur dismissed her as she draped her grey peacoat over the brunette’s shoulders. 

Hermione opened her mouth to argue but the sudden warmth quickly changed her mind. She wrapped herself up like a cloak, savoring Fleur’s body heat. She subconsciously lifted a lapel and inhaled Fleur’s scent. The jasmine perfume was there but now that she was completely enveloped, the smell was much more complex. Fleur had a floral scent but there was something sharp and spicy that lingered on the edges… notes of cloves and cinnamon, perhaps. She took another sniff for good measure. To her side she could have sworn she heard Fleur giggle, which snapped her out of her daze.

“Fine… but just until you get cold. I can’t repay you for rescuing me by getting you sick.” She snapped, in an attempt to deflect from her awkward moment

“That is acceptable. I’m just glad you are learning not to argue with me. I was half-expecting to have to wrangle you like un bébé. Come, it’s this way.” Fleur turned and walked off. 

Hermione stared after the dark shape moving away from her for a moment before hurrying to catch up. Her pride wanted to shoot back some scathing remarks to Fleur’s comment, but now was not the time. 

Thankfully the forest floor was free of most debris so the walking was relatively easy. It didn’t take her long to catch up and she fell into step next to the French girl. 

The girls walked in silence for a few minutes and Hermione realized just how far she had wandered off track. 

“How did you know where to find me?”

“Find you? I did not go looking for you.” Fleur scoffed, “I was out and our paths merely intersected. Which is fortunate for you because tonight would have ended very poorly otherwise had I decided to stay inside tonight instead.”

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek. She wasn’t sure, but Fleur sounded a little annoyed and she didn’t want to piss off her guide. She decided to switch gears. “How do you know where you’re going?”

“I have been here a long time. I know these woods, and I can see well in the dark.” Fleur responded simply. 

Feeling that the conversation was going nowhere, she decided to slip back into silence, though a thousand questions burned on her tongue.

After ten minutes she returned Fleur’s jacket, worried the blonde might be getting cold, even though she never complained. A few minutes after that, the two found themselves facing one another on the stone stairs. 

“You should get inside. They are still serving dinner and you’ve had quite an ordeal.” Fleur looked over Hermione’s head, chin tilting toward the doors.

Hermione blinked, surprised once again by Fleur’s mood shifts. Whatever warmth Hermione thought she saw in Fleur’s eyes earlier had apparently gone cold. 

“Have a pleasant evening, Mademoiselle Granger.” She spoke quickly and turned on her heel without a second look. 

Hermione watched the blonde move off and turned to go inside, pushing the heavy door open. It was only when she was seated in the Great Hall with a bowl of tomato soup that she realized that Fleur hadn’t come inside and had walked off back in the direction of the woods. 

_What could she be up to out there?_

The table filled in around her as the others in her friend group returned from Hogsmeade, all happily chattering about their recent purchases. Hermione nodded politely but mostly tuned them out. Her mind was not in any state to care about teenage gossip. Not when she had a mystery to unravel.

After successfully drowning herself in warm soup and grilled cheese sandwiches, Hermione trudged back to her room, flopping down hard on her bed without turning on the lights.

“Ouch, what the hell?” Her eyes watered from the impact of her nose against a hard surface on her pillow. She snapped on her bedside lamp to investigate. 

It was her phone and a note written in familiar scrawling cursive.

_“You dropped this tonight, I thought you might want it back. I know you do not like me at the moment, so you can delete my number if you feel so inclined. But I hope you keep it._

_FD”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating on my phone, sorry for any issues/mistakes!


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione wasn't sure why she went into the forest again, given her two for two record on getting woefully lost. Perhaps it was her stubborn streak showing or her need to conquer her fears and the unknown. Whatever the cause, there was an undeniable pull, like an invisible rope tugging at her chest, drawing her in and compelling her to keep moving. Her internal voice of reason was screaming at her to turn around, but she quieted her restless mind and followed her heart. She just couldn’t shake the feeling that she was exactly where she needed to be, so she continued on; pushing ever further through the dense trees. 

At least this time she prepared properly. She was wearing multiple layers under her parka and brought a torch along for good measure. In retrospect, she probably should have also brought a friend as well. It wouldn’t hurt to have someone who was already familiar with the woods, and she knew that Ginny certainly would have been up for a late night adventure. But that would have meant coming up with some cover story and she didn’t want to have to explain herself to the redhead when she could barely wrap her own mind around it. Throwing all logic and rationale out the window, she decided to go at it alone. 

She picked her way through the moonless night, waving her torch around in wide, sweeping arcs. To her dismay, the yellow glow revealed nothing but trees and rocks; nothing out of the ordinary. Her frown deepened. She felt like she was looking for  _ something _ but she had no idea what it was. It was frustrating knowing she needed to find something and having to trust that she would know it when she saw it. 

She clenched her jaw and continued on, her determination building with each step. She would find it. She  _ had _ to find it. She knew she was going in the right direction, the pull in her heart was becoming more intense with each step. 

Just a little further. 

The sounds of the forest quieted around her the deeper she ventured, fading away until she had nothing but the sounds of her breath and footfalls for company. Her conviction started to waver and she was beginning to seriously doubt her choice to go on this foolhardy mission. She continued forward but at a much more reserved pace, her previous confidence giving way to apprehension.

The moisture of each exhale condensing like a cloud in front of her face did nothing to soothe her nerves as an unnatural chill settled around her, seeping through her layers of clothes and into her bones. The light from the torch, once her safety line, now reflected off a low lying blanket of fog and cast an eerie glow. She slowed her breathing to try to stay calm but her steadily increasing heart rate indicated that she was losing that battle. She could feel her panic starting to rise and the little voice pouting in the back of her mind whispered a vindicated “I told you so.” 

Her body was tense, as if she was walking a tightrope that threatened to snap at any moment. Each step was careful and calculated.

A bloodcurdling scream unexpectedly broke the silence, instantly freezing the blood in her veins. It was terrifying; equal parts human and animal. The only thought running through her mind was that she did not want to meet the source. She immediately turned tail and started sprinting back toward safety. 

_ Screw this, it’s not worth it. _

Hermione hurried through the forest as fast as her legs could carry her. She didn’t know if she was being followed but she wasn’t going to wait around to find out. Despite her runner’s stamina, the movements were labored and she felt herself tiring much sooner than she would have expected. But she kept going, pushing herself through the pain and fatigue.

She wheezed and pulled another desperate breath into her lungs. The icy air cut like daggers, scratching her throat; burning her from the inside out. Her heart raced wildly, pumping blood, acid and panic through her body. The erratic rhythm echoed hollowly in her ears, drowning out any other sounds. Her legs were impossibly heavy as she ran but she forced herself forward, her limbs churning despite her exhaustion. She felt like she had run a marathon through quicksand and still had no end in sight. 

To make matters worse, her torch sputtered; the light dimming at an alarming rate.  _ Should have checked the batteries, you daft ninny. _

And then the light faded away and she was engulfed in near perfect darkness. 

Her eyes darted around wildly, straining to see through the inky black, desperately searching for anything that looked remotely familiar, anything that indicated an escape from the labyrinth of trees and underbrush. She continued on; hands flailing in front of her to avoid running into trees as unseen branches clawed at her skin, leaving angry welts in their wake. Sweat stung the fresh cuts on her cheeks and brow but she was too focused on getting back to the school grounds to be bothered to stop. 

She turned around a tree in the direction of the school and was met by a solid wall of brambles trapping her in. The only way for her to go was back into the very forest she was trying to escape.

_ Fuck. _

In the darkness Hermione could hear labored breathing approaching her. Whatever it was was moving slowly, as if it knew she was cornered and it was biding its time. Without any other option, she adopted a low stance, gripping the torch like a makeshift club. It was her only defense.

Hermione could see the large silhouette approaching through the swirling mist and she steeled her nerve, ready to fend off her attacker. As the figure approached, the only detail she could make out was two vibrant blue eyes peering out of the fog, and a hauntingly familiar voice echoing through the air. 

_ “‘Ermione…” _

“Hermione!”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, what!?!” Hermione shrieked as she was jolted awake by a pair of hands roughly shaking her shoulders. She sat bolt upright, eyes wild and unfocused as she took in her surroundings. 

A sigh of relief escaped her lips when she realized she wasn’t in the forest but was actually in the safety of her room. It was just a dream, but it had felt so real. She could still feel the phantom rope pulling at her chest, and her skin was chilled, though that might have been from the layer of sweat suddenly coming in contact with the cold air in the dorm. 

Lavender was standing alongside her bed, her arms folded tightly over her chest, and giving her a death glare. The look lost a bit of its effectiveness when taking the rest of her appearance into account: her sandy hair stuck up in rollers and her pajamas were disheveled and hanging off one shoulder. Cho and Parvati were sitting up in their beds, staring at her with bleary eyes.

“You were screaming.” Lavender huffed, not attempting to conceal her annoyance or elaborate on the matter. Without waiting for a response, the irritated blonde turned and shuffled back to her bed, her roommate duty fulfilled. The bedside light flicked off as mattress springs groaned under the other girl’s weight. Minutes later the room was filled with the sounds of sleep from the three other girls.

Hermione flopped back on her pillow and stared up at the ceiling, one hand clutched to her chest in an attempt to calm the organ still trying to beat its way out of her rib cage. Her other hand swept across her sweat drenched brow, pushing the curls that clung uncomfortably to her damp skin. 

“What a wild dream.” She grumbled to herself as she attempted to untangle the mess of blankets she had created. 

Once freed, she peered over at the clock sitting in her bedside stand. The red digital numbers glared back at her.  _ 3:30am _ . 

Groaning, she rolled over and tried to force her body to go back to sleep, but she knew it was a lost cause. 

Hermione locked herself away in the library all day Sunday in a feeble attempt to finish her homework. Usually she had laser focus and could whip through her assignments quickly, but she found her attention drifting every few minutes; memories of creepy fog and electric blue eyes continuously haunted her daydreams. 

It disturbed her that she was dreaming about Fleur in any capacity, but the content of the dream (or was it nightmare?) set her even more on edge. Was Fleur the one who had screamed? It had sounded so primal and animalistic; the mere memory sent chills down her spine. She had a difficult time imagining such a noise ever coming from the sophisticated Frenchwoman, which begged the question: if not Fleur then what had made that cry? She wasn’t sure but didn’t dwell too long; she had several other Fleur-centric questions floating about in her mind. Why was Fleur out there in the first place? Was Fleur her pursuant or savior? And what was with the eyes?

Hermione hadn’t been focused on it at the time but once she had time to look back at the situation in the woods, she realized that something was definitely amiss. Even in the darkness, she had seen Fleur’s eyes as clear as day. She first tried to rationalize it, writing it off as a trick of the light or her overactive imagination due to her panicked state. Then she remembered that her phone was on the ground and it was so dark she could barely make out her own hand in front of her face. No, there was no denying what she had seen. But how was that even possible? 

It seemed that all matters related to Fleur left her with more questions and no answers. And she was sick of not knowing. 

In addition to her restless mind, her phone was burning a hole in her pocket. She waffled back and forth as to whether or not she should text Fleur. A few times she found her thumb hovering over Fleur’s contact entry before she caught herself and tucked her mobile back into her pocket.

What would she even say to Fleur? 

She wanted answers, of course, but she didn’t want to come off strange or clingy, especially if she was wrong about everything. Would Fleur even tell her the truth if she confronted her or would she just laugh and call her crazy? 

As much as she wanted to know the truth, she didn’t want to come across as ungrateful, either. Fleur had gone out of her way to help her that night. Twice. She could chalk her rescue up to coincidence (though she doubted that the meeting was by chance… more questions), but the unprompted return of her mobile phone was definitely an intentional act of kindness. It struck her as just as out of the ordinary as the glowing eyes. 

Truthfully, the kind gesture caught her off guard and made her reconsider her stance on Fleur’s icy demeanor. Perhaps she had misjudged Fleur and there was more to the elusive blonde than met the eye? She remembered Fleur’s strange, borderline possessive behavior at the bonfire. Something was going on, of that much she was certain. 

It was frustrating to her and she didn’t know how to handle the rapid changes in Fleur’s behavior. She almost wished that the girl just went back to ignoring her existence. She knew how to deal with that. This hot-cold, back and forth was confusing and frankly, it was exhausting trying to keep up. 

In the end she decided would just have to show her appreciation for returning her phone in biology class the next day. With her phone safely in her pocket, she tried to push all thoughts of the French beauty from her mind so she could return to her homework. 

That lasted about six minutes.

By the time the library closed, she still hadn’t finished her homework. As a result she was forced to stay up late to finish her literature essay. McGonagall would have her hide if she turned in an incomplete piece. The professor had the reputation for being a stickler for perfection and Hermione was quick to learn that that stern professor’s notoriety was well earned.

Exhausted as she was, sleep did not come easily that night. She lay there, fidgeting and fighting the urge to flop to expel her nervous energy. When she did manage to drift off, her dreams were plagued by the same nightmare from the previous night. At least this time she didn’t scream in her sleep.

By 7:45 Monday morning, Hermione’s eyelids were so heavy that it burned to keep them open for longer than a few minutes at a time. And she hadn’t even made it to the Great Hall for breakfast! Trying to cut down on idle time, she grabbed a banana and a piece of toast before heading straight to the biology room. Perhaps she could grab a quick nap before class started. 

Hermione was roused her from her power nap by the sounds of other students shuffling about. She sat up quickly, and she was grateful to see that Fleur hadn’t arrived yet to see her in her mussed state. She had just enough time to run her fingers through her messy curls and wipe the sleep from the corners of her eyes before she caught sight of a flash of platinum hair. 

Unfortunately, it was not the Delacour she had been expecting.

Throwing all manner of etiquette out the window, Hermione shamelessly eavesdropped on Gabrielle’s conversation with Sprout, catching that Fleur was ill and would not be attending class. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt a wave of disappointment settle in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t have the capacity to fully unpack that train of thought and simply reasoned that she was upset because her plan to thank Fleur had been derailed. There was no other logical explanation why Fleur’s presence or lack thereof would have any bearing on her mood. 

Fleur’s absence from class was both a blessing and a curse. The lecture was another review and she could have probably gotten away with taking another nap. Normally she would never condone such behavior but she was so tired that she considered letting it slide for once. However, instead of slacking off, she forced herself to stay awake and dutifully take notes for her missing lab partner. It was the least she could do to repay Fleur for saving her from the forest and bringing back her phone, she reasoned. She simply wanted to repay her debts.

The day went steadily downhill from there. Forcing herself to take notes in Bio had given her something to focus on, but the same could not be said for her other classes. It seemed that there was something in every class that just rubbed her wrong. A pop quiz in Latin and getting called out in History for drifting off were just the tip of the iceberg. 

By the time her Chemistry class rolled around, she was at her wits end and did the unthinkable: she engaged Snape in an argument in front of the class. She was in no mood to deal with his sneering, condescending tone and she made her opinions known. Her frustration boiled to a head and she lashed out without thinking. It wasn’t even a good argument and once she stopped seeing red, she couldn’t even remember what it was about or if she even won! All she had to show for her outburst was her first detention in her academic history. 

“This is just bloody perfect,” Hermione grumbled sarcastically as she inspected her detention slip on her way to dinner.

“There she is! The legend herself!” Ginny’s voice boomed through the hall. Moments later a strong hand clapped her on the back. Downside of such a small school: News traveled fast.

“Hi Gin,” Hermione’s shoulder sagged under the weight of her friend’s arm.

“So is it true? You told Snape where he could shove it?” Harry piped in, suddenly appearing on her other side. 

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that… honestly, it was such a blur I don’t even remember what I said.” Hermione grimaced, thinking of the detentions she had earned herself. The punishment definitely didn’t match the crime, in her opinion.

“Seamus said it was epic and swears he saw Snape’s greasy hair curling at the ends! You really had him on the ropes!” The redhead laughed and looped her arm around Hermione’s before shouting down the corridor. “Make way you lousy sods, hero coming through!”

“Would you keep it down!” Hermione hissed, even though she knew that her words were falling on deaf ears. 

At that moment, Hermione wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow her whole. She stared at her feet as she walked, cheeks burning. She hated attention, especially for something like this. She wasn’t a rule breaker and she didn’t condone rude behavior. Now she was probably labeled as a deviant troublemaker. 

“Well, whatever happened, you did what so many of us have wanted to do for ages! It’s about time someone told that slimy git to sod off!” Harry added, a broad grin on his face as he kept pace with the two girls. “He’s been giving me hell since day one.”

“I’m glad someone’s excited about it.” Hermione rolled her eyes, not enjoying the attention. 

“We’re all excited about it!” Ginny countered enthusiastically.

“Yeah, well, you’re not the one who has to deal with the fall out,” Hermione mumbled under her breath. “I have an hour every evening this week!”

“Whoa, that’s harsh! You musta really pissed him off!” Harry laughed, his emerald eyes twinkling at the image he had conjured in his mind. 

“I know right? Man, I’d give my left tit to have seen that. Eh, maybe not… I wouldn’t want to be off balance.”

“Stop being so dramatic, Ginny,” Hermione quickly admonished the enthusiastic redhead. “It really wasn’t that great. I just had a shit day and I lost my temper. I really shouldn’t have done it.”

“Well, nothing to do now but face the music, I guess. When do you have to go?” 

Hermione checked her phone, mindful of the cracked corner. Thankfully the screen protector had taken the brunt of the damage. It was easier to replace that than the full screen, though the sharp edge could still do damage to her fingertips. 

“Uh, in 25 minutes.”

“Bummer, it’s pie night. Well, more for us, right Potter?”

“I’m so touched by your concern. Do you ever think about anything other than food?” Hermione joked goodnaturedly, shoving the athlete with her shoulder as she walked. 

Harry just chuckled at the girls’ banter and followed along.

Hermione managed to get a quick dinner in before reporting to her first detention session. The Chemistry room was empty when she arrived. Perhaps Snape was in his office or the adjoining storage room. 

“Hello?” She felt ridiculous calling out to no one.

“Well, Miss Granger, how kind of you to grace me with your presence. Spending what little free time I have babysitting you is just the absolute highlight of my day…” Snape’s ability to be simultaneously sarcastic and monotone was quite an impressive feat. “I commend you for being on time. If only you could show such discipline in other areas. Tell me, are you incapable of keeping your opinions to yourself or do you take pride in being an arrogant know-it-all?”

“It was your choice to give me detention,” Hermione grumbled internally as he spoke but bit back any further comment. Her short fuse was what got her here in the first place, and she didn’t want to extend her punishment by making another snarky comment. She decided keeping her mouth shut was the best course of action and glowered at a particularly interesting bit of flooring. 

A moment later the man emerged from his office, wearing his patented look: black slacks and a black button up. Hermione had yet to see him in anything else. She privately wondered if he had raided Johnny Cash’s closet. 

“You’ll be cleaning the glassware this week, starting with the test tubes.”

Hermione groaned. This  _ really _ wasn’t fair. There were  _ hundreds _ of test tubes, all of which needed to be scrubbed inside and out and neutralized before they could be hand dried and stored properly. 

“Certainly…  _ professor _ .” She ground out the title as if the word offended her. She had been raised to respect persons of authority but she was struggling at the moment. 

Without another word she rolled up her sleeves and headed to the wash station to get started. 

Hermione was mid-filling the second sink with distilled water when the door swung open. On instinct, she turned around to look at the newcomer but one glance had her regretting her decision. 

_ ‘It really isn’t my day.’ _

“I’m sorry I’m late, Professor.” Fleur breezed in. 

Hermione stood stiffly as a board as she listened to Fleur approach the front of the room. She closed her eyes as the scent of jasmine perfume filled her nostrils. She turned her head and attempted to hide behind her hair but she knew it was a lost cause. 

“Good evening, Miss Delacour, I wasn’t expecting you today.” Snape drawled in an almost civil tone, which was unnerving. “As it is, your presence is most welcome. If you’d be so kind as to help me grade these quizzes and keep an eye on Miss Granger to make sure she stays on task, I’ll be in the store room preparing for next week’s labs.”

“I’d be happy to, Professor.” Fleur chirped cheerfully, though Hermione thought she detected a hint of smugness in her tone. “Do you have the grading sheet?” 

Hermione prayed to every deity she knew of to be struck down where she stood. Her day really couldn’t get much worse. Yes, she had wanted to see Fleur but not like this. 

She focused on her first load of tubes, vigorously scrubbing them with a wiry tube brush.

She could hear Fleur settling in a desk nearby, papers shuffling, and Snape’s footsteps echoed on the hardwood as he swept through the room. Moments later, the door opened and closed, leaving a tense silence. 

Once she was certain that Snape had left, she chanced a look out of the corner of her eye.

Fleur was sitting, looking perfect as ever, her eyes focused on the sheet of paper in front of her. A red pen hovered dangerously in her left hand, poised and ready to mark wrong answers. She didn’t look like she was recovering from being sick.  _ Had she been faking it earlier? Fleur didn’t seem like one to play hooky.  _

“What are you doing here, Fleur? Are you in detention, too?” Hermione couldn’t help herself.

“Hah! Me in detention? Don’t make me laugh, ‘Ermione.” Bright blue eyes flicked up to meet her gaze. 

Hermione turned and glared, waiting for an answer.

“I’m his student assistant,” Fleur explained after a few beats of silence. “I’m hoping to pursue chemistry in university studies and he was kind enough to offer me this opportunity.”

Hermione snorted. Kind certainly wasn’t a word she would ever associate with the greasy haired professor. But she was impressed to learn of Fleur’s ambitions. And anyone who could willingly put up with Snape deserved a gold medal, in her opinion. She grabbed a new tube and jammed the brush inside. 

They settled back into silence, but the air remained charged. 

“You were gone this morning.” Hermione blurted out when she couldn’t take the heavy tension any longer. She paused in her scrubbing, turning to face the other girl. 

“Uh, oui, I was feeling unwell.” Fleur hedged slightly, eyes not quite meeting Hermione’s. 

“I told you I didn’t want you getting sick by giving me your coat.”

“It wasn’t that, I assure you. But I thank you for your concern about my wellbeing. As you can see, I’m in tip top condition now.”

Hermione relaxed slightly. At least it wasn’t her fault. She rinsed the tube and set it on a peg to dry. “I have notes from the lesson you missed. I didn’t want you to fall behind.”

“Thank you, I appreciate your thoughtfulness.” Fleur smiled softly. 

Hermione hated the way Fleur’s smile made her heart flutter. It was a small, tight lipped smile, but it lightened up her face. A full smile must be absolutely radiant. 

“Yeah, well, it was the least I could do after you saved me and brought my phone back. You really didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.” Fleur dipped her head and returned to her grading. 

Hermione turned back to her work, reading Fleur’s posture as a sign that the conversation was closed and they were to focus on their respective tasks. She spent the rest of her hour trying to work out how she might finagle some answers out of Fleur in the future. She knew that if she approached the subject head on that she would be met by an impenetrable wall of ice. Tact and careful wording would be essential if she had any hope of getting Fleur to lower her guard. 

One way or another, she would unravel the mystery of Fleur Delacour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the last update of 2020. Our girls are making progress (?)   
> See you next year!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bold is French, italics are dreams/thoughts.

Hermione was holed up in her favorite reading nook in the library Saturday evening. Miraculously, she had dodged Ginny’s attempts to drag her out to party to celebrate their scrimmage victory and decided to treat herself to a relaxing night in. She had made it through the particularly daunting week and needed an escape from people, as well as a break from her own mind. Quality alone time with a good book was a perfect distraction. Specifically, a distraction from Fleur. 

She hated to admit that Fleur was having such an affect on her. Despite her previous resolve to ignore Fleur, the blonde was never far from the forefront of her mind. She had made no progress on getting answers to the million questions she had, which only served to fuel her curiosity and frustration. It was a vicious cycle. 

Even though Hermione saw Fleur each day in class, in the dining hall, and at detention, she never had the chance to talk to her beyond cordial formalities. At least Fleur acknowledged her existence now, greeting her each morning in Biology with a polite head nod, sometimes even her tight lipped smile. Hermione would never admit it, but each glance caused butterflies to take flight in her stomach. 

Part of Hermione rejoiced at this small victory, but the other part was offended that Fleur wasn’t willing to engage her in further conversation. Logically, she had to remind herself that they weren’t friends (barely acquaintances, really), so Fleur had no reason to talk to her. But feelings were anything but logical. The few glimpses behind Fleur’s carefully crafted mask had left her confused, curious, and wanting to know more. She wasn't  _ stalking _ Fleur, per se; she had merely started paying extra attention to the girl’s whereabouts, hoping their paths might cross so they could have a little tête-à-tête. 

Unfortunately, fate had other plans. Fleur was suddenly everywhere and nowhere at once, and always a step ahead. 

To make matters worse, she hadn’t stopped dreaming about Fleur. Her subconscious treks through the dark forest were her new nightly normal and she was starting to become desensitized to it. It still made her uncomfortable but at least she no longer woke up feeling terrified like she had the first night. 

But none of that mattered tonight. There was no Fleur. There were no haunting dreams. It was just her, Elizabeth, and Mr. Darcy. 

Hermione shifted in the overstuffed armchair as she attempted to find a more comfortable position. She tucked herself in sideways with her feet up on the arm rest with her battered copy of  _ Pride and Prejudice _ resting on her bent knees. Normally she wouldn’t be so casual in public but there was no one else around so she figured she could cut loose for a bit. 

Famous last words. 

Hermione was just reading about Darcy’s meddling when she heard two people approaching, in the midst of what seemed to be a heated conversation. Judging by their volume, they weren’t expecting to be overheard and even if they were, they were speaking in rapid French. Unbeknownst to them, Hermione was close enough to listen in and happened to speak French well enough to catch the gist of the conversation. 

Hermione froze in place when she recognized one of the voices.  _ God, her voice sounds even more amazing when speaking in her native tongue. _ She crouched down in her seat, hoping to blend into the velvety upholstery and avoid detection. 

**“I don’t want to talk about it, Gabrielle.”**

**“So you’re just going to ignore it? Pretend it doesn’t exist? You can’t escape this, Fleur!”**

Hermione leaned forward, her curiosity getting the better of her.  _ Was Fleur in trouble? Did this have to do with her absence on Monday? _

**“What would you have me do?”** Fleur hissed back.

**“Just talk to her! If she hasn’t started feeling the effects yet, she will soon. She’s not an idiot, she will have questions. She’ll start drawing her own conclusions when she doesn’t get the answers she needs. And we both know how that ends.”**

_ Her? Her who?  _ Hermione felt the green monster rear its head inside her chest at the thought. She was on the edge of her seat, hanging on every word. She didn’t care that she was blatantly eavesdropping. After a week of speculating, she was finally getting some information. 

**“It’s not that simple…”**

**“Don’t you dare walk away from me!”** Hermione could hear footsteps retreating a few paces before Gabrielle called out again.

**“Fleur Isabelle Delacour, I know you are many things but never did I suspect you to be a coward. I know you’re scared but running away is not the solution!”**

There were the sounds of a scuffle, ending with a dull thud of a body being shoved against the bookshelf one aisle over. The loser grunted at the impact and released an irritated hiss. 

**“Let go of me, Gabrielle.”** Fleur’s tone was dangerous.

_ Interesting _ , Hermione thought to herself at the unexpected bit of information. Fleur might have a few centimeters on her sister but apparently Gabrielle could hold her own against her elder. 

**“You’re only making it more difficult on yourself and you’ll end up driving her away. Just talk to her for Goddess sake! Maybe not everything right away. Go slow; ease her into it, but whatever you do, don’t lie or try to gaslight her. She’ll see through that in an instant, and it would be an insult to her intelligence.”**

There was a pregnant pause. Hermione unknowingly held her breath as she waited to hear Fleur’s response. 

**“Ugh! You win, okay? I’ll talk to her. Now would you stop manhandling me?”**

**“I don’t believe you. Promise me -”**

**“I promise.”** Even Hermione could hear the insincerity.

**“I’m serious, Fleur. Promise me on grandfather’s grave.”** Gabrielle upped the stakes. 

Fleur released a sigh of defeat, **“Very well, I shall speak to her next week.”**

**“Good. I’m glad you’re finally getting your head out of your ass. It’s been torture watching you.”**

**“When did you become so wise?”**

**“I wouldn’t necessarily call it wisdom. It’s in my best interest to knock some sense into you, too. I’d be stuck watching you mope and waste your life away, and I frankly don’t want to deal with that.”**

**“You’re a little shit, you know that, right? Besides, you don’t know that would happen.”**

**“Believe me, sister, I’ve had a lifetime of watching your pattern of self destruction. You deserve to be happy for a change.”**

There was another long pause.

**“Do you really think she’ll hear me out?”**

**“I do. Remember, trust goes both ways. Sometimes you have to give a little to get a little. It will take time to earn her hers, but I truly think Hermione will listen.”**

**“Thank you, Little Monster. Sometimes I don’t know what I’d do without you.”**

**“Don’t mention it. I’m serious. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”** Gabrielle responded lightly.  **“Come on, let’s go get an ice cream before they close the Hall.”**

Hermione sat there long after the two sisters left, her book lay abandoned in her lap. Her mind was running in circles trying to process everything she had just heard. So they were talking about her! What on earth could Fleur have to say to her? What was she so afraid of? What effects was she going to be feeling? Did it have to do with Fleur’s strange behavior the prior weekend and her dreams? Was it all connected?

_ Hermione picked her way through the dense trees, following the now familiar path. She felt the chill in the air as the fog rolled in. Any second now. _

_ The scream. _

_ Hermione paused; her body locked in place while her instincts were screaming at her to run like every time before. Instead of bolting, she took a deep breath to settle her nerves and took control. It took every ounce of willpower she could muster, but she managed to take a step forward; walking toward the sound rather than away.  _

_ She had read about lucid dreaming but never thought she would experience it. It was a bizarre feeling, being both a participant and observer, controlling her own dream destiny. _

_ She couldn’t bring herself to regret this decision. She was tired of the panicked sprint through the trees and this was the first night she felt in control enough to try something different. Even if things ended horribly, she was aware enough to know it was just a dream and she would wake up eventually.  _

_ She could feel her heart pounding hard in her chest, but as time passed, the uneasy feeling started to give way to warmth, the pull in her chest growing stronger with each step. It almost hurt. She was so close.  _

_ Her torch sputtered and only darkness enveloped her. Still, she moved forward.  _

_ She could see a light source up ahead. It was faint but it was there. She honed in like a lost ship heading for a distant lighthouse.  _

_ The light got brighter and brighter until she broke through the tree line and stepped into the near-blinding light.  _

_ Hermione blinked and took in her surroundings. She was standing at the edge of a sun-lit meadow. She blinked rapidly, shielding her eyes with her hand so she could look around.  _

_ At first glance the meadow looked empty, just grasses and wildflowers swaying in an unseen wind. But as her eyes adjusted she realized she was not alone. There was a figure lying in the middle of the circular clearing: a girl with long, platinum hair, clad in a flowing white dress. She was unmoving and Hermione feared the worst.  _

_ She waffled, debating what she would do.  _

_ After a moment, the girl seemed to sense Hermione’s presence and shifted. She gingerly pushed herself up, leaning sideways, propped up on one arm. She pushed her silk locks out of her face and Hermione saw familiar eyes staring up at her.  _

_ The moment their eyes locked, Hermione knew. She had found what she was searching for. The tug at her heart released and she felt nothing but contentment and warmth in her chest.  _

_ “‘Ermione… you found me.” _

_ “Fleur.” _

“Fleur…” Hermione’s eyes shot open as her body was pulled from slumber. She could feel the name on her lips and wondered if she had spoken aloud. She blinked several times as her mind caught up, staring up at the dark ceiling of her room. Unlike the previous nights, she felt enveloped in a sense of calm, she almost regretted being awake.

_ Well, that was a new development. _

Torture. 

The following week was absolute torture. Despite the promise she had overheard, Fleur hadn’t spoken to her and Hermione was quickly losing her patience. She didn’t want to push the matter because that would mean revealing her eavesdropping but she was nearly at her wit's end. 

She forced herself to go through the motions, pretending as if nothing was amiss, but it was getting increasingly difficult to stay focused. 

She hadn’t dreamt of the forest since she found Fleur in the meadow, and she wasn’t sure if this was a positive or negative sign. All she knew was that something was definitely different. She had the distinct impression that whatever was happening was affecting them both, she could see it in Fleur’s sapphire eyes each morning. Moreover, she could feel it in her heart. 

Hermione knew the French girl was on the verge, but she never took the leap. 

They got close a few times in biology, Fleur would lean forward and open her mouth as if to speak, only to think better of it. Her expressive eyes would grow distant and she would ask about something mundane from the lecture. Obvious deflection technique. 

Hermione felt like she was going insane and desperately wanted answers. 

_ Why was Fleur avoiding it? Why wouldn’t she talk?  _

Hermione woke Friday morning with an anxious knot settled firmly in her stomach. It struck her as odd. According to her agenda, there was no reason to be nervous. She didn’t have any tests or quizzes, all her homework had been turned in.  _ So why the uneasy feeling? _

She decided to skip her morning run, jostling her already upset stomach didn’t seem wise. Instead she pulled a freshly starched uniform out of the laundry bag (thank god for the weekly cleaning service) and got ready for the day, trying to ignore the growing sense of dread. 

Her roommates were giving her a wide berth - apparently her waking them up with her screaming drove a wedge between them. Good riddance, as far as she was concerned. 

Hermione pulled her pack higher on her shoulder as she walked the corridors toward the Great Hall. Her fingers twitched and her breath was becoming shallower with each step. She really couldn’t put a finger on the cause of her incoming panic attack. 

She made her way quickly through the breakfast line. Even though she wasn’t feeling particularly hungry, she knew she had to eat something. She settled for a bowl of porridge as well as a helping of eggs and toast.

She scanned the crowded hall, her gaze settling on a pair of blondes tucked away in the corner. No one dared sit closer than ten feet away and those seats were taken only as a last resort. Those that had drawn the short straw were shifted in their seats, leaning away to maximize distance. 

Hermione rolled her shoulders, straightened herself up, and marched. She was vaguely aware of the fact that the Hall went silent and that a hundred eyes were watching her but she continued on, undaunted. 

She came to a stop behind the older sister, waiting for Fleur to acknowledge her. Any other time she would feel ridiculous standing there, clutching her tray and waiting like an idiot. 

“Good morning, Hermione.” The younger girl had a softer accent than her sister, one would be hard pressed to detect it. Not that Hermione had heard her speak much - at least in English. This was actually the first time the junior had addressed her directly. 

“Gabrielle,” she replied in a short but not unfriendly manner. She was too focused on her mission to bother with small talk and pleasantries. 

The younger Delacour just gave her an understanding nod before returning to her tea and morning paper. 

Fleur, on the other hand, was determinedly not looking at her, choosing to stare at the table as she absentmindedly played with her eggs.

The dread in Hermione’s stomach was almost nauseating, but she pushed it aside. Enough was enough. She had waited for Fleur to come to her but she was tired of waiting. She would have answers. 

“Do you mind if I borrow your sister?” She addressed the younger Delacour.

“By all means, please take her. I have had my fill of her cheerful, sunny disposition, it would be selfish of me not to share.” Gabrielle drawled sardonically. 

Hermione appreciated Gabrielle’s sense of humor. She and Ginny would probably get on splendidly if they ever talked. Maybe it was for the best they didn’t. She got the impression that the pair would raise all manner of hell if they teamed up. 

“ _ She _ is sitting right here and  _ she  _ can hear you.” Fleur grumbled. 

“Good, she speaks. Come on then.”

Without another word, Hermione turned on her heel. She heard Fleur yelp, then the bench creak. She smiled to herself, imagining Gabrielle kicking Fleur under the table. Light footsteps followed behind her. 

She passed by Ginny, who was staring open mouthed at her. She shoved her tray at the redhead with a quick thanks. Ginny continued to stare but nodded her understanding. 

Hermione heard the Hall erupt into loud chatter as the doors closed behind her and Fleur. No doubt the rumor mill would be running overtime today. 

Hermione led the way down toward the forest. It seemed like a private enough place where they wouldn’t be caught for skipping class. It annoyed her that Fleur was walking so far behind her but at least she was still coming.

“You’ve got some explaining to do.” Hermione cut the silence once they were deep into the woods. She turned to face Fleur as the taller girl approached. 

“I… uh…” Fleur hedged before Hermione cut her off.

“And before you start making excuses or denying anything, I’ll have you know that I heard you and Gabrielle in the library. You two shouldn’t depend on French so much as a deterrent for people listening in.”

Fleur’s eyes widened, “You heard that?”

“Yes, and I speak French well enough to have kept up with most of the conversation.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh.’ I’ve waited all week for you to talk to me and I won’t wait any longer. Look, I know you’ve saved my arse and I’m not trying to be ungrateful, but you’ve been weird around me since day one and I think I deserve to have some answers.”

Fleur stared back at her, expression neutral, but Hermione could tell her temper was rising. Something akin to anger flashed dangerously in her eyes.  _She didn’t like being challenged. Noted._

Hermione gulped but didn’t back down. She folded her arms across her chest and leaned against a tree, waiting. 

“Very well. What did you want to know?” Fleur spoke after several tense moments of silence. “I promise I will answer truthfully.”

Hermione was honestly surprised that Fleur was talking, she had expected to have to dig in a lot more. She thought for a moment, suddenly unable to decide which question to start with, she had so many that needed addressing. Best to start with the basics. 

“I get the distinct impression that there is something very unique about you… so, what are you?”

“ I’m a Veela.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 2021, have an update... Answers and more questions...


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermione gets more answers than she bargained for.

“What the hell is a Veela?”

Fleur stalled, awkwardly shuffling her feet as she glanced around the forest. Hermione waited for her to collect her thoughts. She knew that if she pushed too hard then Fleur would clam up and the conversation would end then and there.

“You may want to sit down, this could take a while,” Fleur gestured as she took a seat on a fallen log. “What I am about to tell you, well, it is not usually shared with outsiders. It is very important that it remains a secret. Can you promise me that?” 

Hermione nodded immediately, lowering herself to the ground without taking her eyes off Fleur. She tried to keep a lid on her eagerness, but learning something new was better than Christmas coming early for the bookworm. She refrained from fidgeting too much by tucking her hands under her folded legs, though she subconsciously leaned forward. “I promise. It’s not my secret to tell.”

Fleur hummed softly before her expression turned serious once again. Blue eyes bore into brown as she continued, “You do not live in the world you think you do, ‘Ermione, and there are some things that cannot be explained through science and logic. I am descended from a race of elite warriors. Over the years, we have been known by many names but our purpose remained the same: to maintain peace and balance in the world. 

“In the ancient times, we were revered and even worshipped by many cultures; our presence was seen as a blessing or a sign of boons to come. We did not adhere to any law or subject ourselves to any ruler. We existed as an autonomous, independent people, but were willing to lend our assistance if the cause was deemed worthy. 

“But as with all things they do not understand, the humans eventually grew to fear us. Since we refused to be controlled, we were seen as a threat to their power. We were hunted, slaughtered, and pushed to the brink of extinction. 

“Centuries ago, our shamans developed a way to conceal us, and we learned how to control our natural power and gifts so we might pass as humans. The survivors meticulously erased evidence of our existence from record, and eventually we passed into legend as a myth of old. 

“We have adapted over the years, effectively assimilating ourselves into modern culture. Despite our efforts, humans tend to give us a wide berth and are generally wary of us. I think you have noticed this, oui? The way other students act around me or my sister?” 

Hermione blinked slowly as Fleur’s words sank in. A heavy silence fell between them. Fleur was watching her expectantly and Hermione didn’t have a clue how to respond. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but this was decidedly not it. Part of her wanted to immediately dismiss it as a load of rubbish. Instead she remained silent, lost in her thoughts. Did Fleur actually expect her to believe that story? The earnest look on the other girl’s face said yes, she 100 percent did. 

While the brunette could understand that life wasn't so intensely black and white, she was still a being firmly entrenched in the fact that logic and common sense had its place in the world. So she was well beyond her childhood belief in legends and fairy tales. And yet, there was something about the other girl's story that seemed so far fetched that maybe it actually made sense. She shook her head, surprised that she was actually considering this. Besides, logically speaking, what reason would Fleur have to fabricate such an elaborate lie?

Her brain was running on overdrive to process this new information and her mouth moved before she could stop herself. 

“So… you’re magical?” She cringed inwardly as the words slipped out. It was one thing to think about it, but it sounded ridiculous saying that out loud. 

Fleur’s eyes lit up, brimming with hope. “No, I wouldn’t say magical, exactly. Perhaps the better term would be supernatural. We are evolutionarily advanced beings compared to the human race. We aren’t all powerful though. Like all beings, we have strengths and weaknesses. As I said, we’ve also learned to control and mute our abilities so we don’t raise suspicions.”

“Weaknesses? Like what? Does garlic hurt you?”

“Non.” A sculpted eyebrow raised slightly. 

“Churches, holy water, or hallowed ground?”

“Non.”

“Sunlight?”

“Mon Dieu, I’m not a vampire!” 

Hermione’s eyes widened, “Wait, those are real, too?!”

“Non, there are no vampires, ‘Ermione.” Fleur’s tone was taking on an exasperated edge. 

“Okay, no vampires, got it.” Hermione was surprised to note that she was somewhat disappointed by this. Not that she wanted there to be blood-sucking, undead demons, but if Veela were real, then who was to say there weren’t other mythical beings like Bigfoot, Mothman, or the Lochness Monster? “So, what kinds of abilities do you have then?”

“As I mentioned before, we are gifted fighters. Our bodies are stronger and faster than the average human, and our senses are enhanced.”

“Your eyes…” Hermione muttered under her breath, remembering the way Fleur’s eyes glowed and how she had no issue picking her way through the dark forest. Well, that was one more point supporting Fleur’s crazy story. 

“Oui, it is also how I was able to find you so easily that night,” Fleur confirmed. 

“But you said…”

“I know what I said! I panicked, alright?” Fleur pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. “I apologize for my outburst. I’m sorry, this is very stressful.”

“Thanks for the apology. I get that this is difficult, but you don’t need to be rude, either.”

“You’re right, I was out of line. Would you like for me to continue?”

Hermione just nodded her affirmative, not entirely trusting herself not to make a snarky comment and escalate the situation. 

“We can also be very persuasive. We might be warriors, but we actually prefer to avoid a fight whenever possible. We believe that our words are just as meaningful as our swords, so why shed blood unnecessarily?”

Hermione could appreciate this sentiment. Despite having grown up on military bases around the world, she preferred to avoid physical conflict whenever possible. She wasn’t afraid to get dirty and had thrown a few punches when it was deserved, but words were her weapon of choice. 

She sat for a moment, silently mulling everything over. Fleur’s words stirred a memory, “Persuasive, huh? So that night at the bonfire, when you sent Katie running for the hills…” Hermione trailed off as she replayed the scene in her mind. 

“I might have used my Thrall on her.” Fleur blushed and turned away. “Normally I have better control, but I saw you two sitting together and I lost it. You were right, I was jealous.”

Hermione barely managed to silence the ‘Ha, I knew it’ that danced at the tip of her tongue. “Thrall? What is that?”

“Ah… it is complicated but in a basic sense it is a projection of emotions. It is another layer of our persuasion, one that allows us to influence those in our vicinity to, how do you English say, stack the deck if the outcome does not seem favorable.”

Hermione blanched. Had Fleur just admitted to being able to essentially control others and bend them to her will? Had this all been a manipulation for Fleur’s sick enjoyment? Were her developing feelings toward the blonde even real? Was Fleur using her Thrall now? What about the dreams? That one didn’t exactly make sense, but it was clear that the dreams were connected to Fleur in some way and she had no other way of explaining it.

As if reading her mind, Fleur hastily clarified, “I didn’t use it on you. For one, I would never use it on you. I truly do not like taking away someone’s free will like that. Now, as you saw I’m not perfect. I do have slip ups, but I try to control myself. Second, it wouldn’t work on you even if I tried. Same with Gabrielle.”

“What do you mean? Is there something wrong with me?”

“I tell you I’m not human and can influence people with my mythical ways and you think something is wrong with you? You are very strange indeed, ‘Ermione Granger. But no, there is nothing wrong with you.” Fleur laughed softly, averting her eyes for a moment as she collected herself. “In fact, to me you are perfect.”

Hermione noticed that Fleur’s blush was now reaching the tips of her ears. Judging by the heat rising in her own cheeks, she was sporting an equally brilliant shade of red. Fleur thought she was perfect? Fleur, who looked like a goddess walking among mortals thought she, Hermione Jean Granger, was perfect?

“Oh… uh… thanks?” She stammered awkwardly, resisting the urge to slap her own forehead. Being the center of Fleur’s attention was dumbing down her ability to form coherent sentences.  _ ‘Get it together!’ _ she chastised herself. “So, why doesn’t it work on me?”

“There are some people in the world who have a strong enough will to be able to fully defend themselves against the influence of Thrall. It is very rare and holds particular significance in my culture. It means…” Fleur trailed off, focusing her attention on a piece of moss she plucked off the log she was seated on. 

When it became clear that Fleur was avoiding the topic, Hermione prompted; her patience finally reaching its limits. “What does it mean, Fleur?”

“It means you are a potential Veela mate, ‘Ermione.” The words rushed out so quickly that Hermione had to replay it in her mind a few times to pick out the individual words. 

Fleur looked like she wanted to run and hide at her own admission. It was jarring to see Fleur so vulnerable, embarrassed over having to explain this to her. It certainly flew in the face of her ice queen facade.

“A… m-mate? You mean, like… Oh my God…” Hermione‘s heart rate spiked. She had blindly followed Fleur out into the woods far away from school and help. Her mind started spinning through worst-case scenarios. She had training in basic hand to hand combat and self defense, but was that enough to go against a self-proclaimed elite warrior? What would she do if Fleur had less than honorable intentions? She instinctively scooted back.

“No, please, don’t be afraid! I would never harm you. I’m sorry, I can tell this makes you uncomfortable, and it pains me knowing that I’m the cause, but I think you deserve to know the truth. If it’s too much we can take a break. I’ve put a lot on your shoulders, I understand if you’ve reached your limit for today.”

Hermione paused, reassured by Fleur’s words and the openness she was displaying. It was clear the Veela truly cared about her (in what capacity remained to be seen) or else she was incredibly skilled at faking emotions. Her brain kicked back into gear, supplying more reasons to trust Fleur. If the Veela had wanted to take advantage of her, why tell her about it beforehand? Besides, she had several opportunities already and Fleur had been pretty respectful these past few weeks, she justified. 

“I appreciate that. You’re right, it’s a lot but I think I’m okay for now. It just caught me off guard. So tell me what this means for me.” Hermione breathed out. The unspoken ‘for us’ lingered in the space between them.

Fleur smiled softly, her eyes full of wonder. Clearly she hadn’t been expecting Hermione to take the news as well as she had. “As a potential mate, you are immune not only to my Thrall, but to any Veela’s Thrall. This makes you incredibly desirable. While we can breed with humans without consequence, it is difficult for a Veela to have a long term relationship with someone who is susceptible to her Thrall because of the doubt that the partner is under her influence or actually has true feelings for her. With you, on the other hand, your feelings are entirely your own.”

“Well, that’s somewhat reassuring. At least I know I’m not being mind controlled.”

“It’s not just your immunity to my gifts that sets you apart for me. I knew you were special to me when we first met in biology class. It’s difficult to explain, maybe attribute it to my Veela instincts, but I immediately felt drawn to you. I was instantly comfortable around you, like a friend I hadn’t seen in ages.”

“If that was the case, then why were you such a bitch to me when we first met? My god, you treated the dirt on your shoe better than me.”

“I know and I’m so terribly sorry about that. I… was afraid. Not of meeting a potential mate, but because I wasn’t sure I could control myself. It’s very rare and very exciting, and I was so attracted to you that it was difficult for me to rein in my instincts. A large part of me wanted to make my feelings known right then and there. But also I was afraid you might reject me if you found out. I didn’t handle myself well. I know that isn’t an excuse.”

“You really didn’t, but we can unpack that later. Tell me more about this mate bond, pull, thing. Do you get a say or is it all soulmates predetermined shit and you’re stuck with me?”

“Please don’t say that. You say ‘stuck with you’ as if it is a punishment. I would be honored if you were to accept me.”

Hermione stared at Fleur for a moment, unsure how to handle that. This had to be a joke. First Fleur said she was perfect, then admitted her attraction, and now this? And yet, Fleur looked dead serious.

“Okay, fine. So is this some weird destiny thing or not? Because to me it sounds like ‘potential mates’ implies that I am not the only option for you?” The thought of Fleur being with someone else stung more than it reasonably should. Hermione hastily shoved that thought aside.

“Correct, just as I am not the only option for you. As I mentioned, you are special to me. Even if there were several potential mates in front of me, I know I would gravitate to you and forsake the others, but it is still my choice. I suppose it would be like sticking you in a room full of potential suitors. Some will seem more attractive to you. For me the dating pool is significantly smaller.” Fleur chuckled wryly.

“I guess that makes sense. There’s more compatibility or attraction with some than with others.”

“Oui, exactly! And in the end, we both can decide if we want the other. It’s not set in stone or written in the stars. I suppose it is the same for humans, in that regard, where both parties must agree to engage in the relationship. That said, even if you chose to pursue a relationship with me, until we solidify our bond, it is possible that another Veela may challenge me for rights to you. As I said earlier, potential mates are rare and…”

“ _ Rights?!  _ Now wait just a minute!” Hermione’s voice went shrill as her temper flared, “I’m not an object to own or a prize to be won!”

“I know, I know! And I assure you I do not think this way. I believe in choice and would never force you to do anything you didn’t want.” Fleur held her hands up to pacify the brunette. 

Hermione calmed down slightly, but she was still seething. “Well, I don’t like it, but I guess I’d rather hear it from you first. Please continue.”

“Please, try to understand. I may look human but I’m not. There’s a part of me that is primal, for lack of a better word, running on deeply ingrained instincts. I cannot help it, just as a goose cannot help that they have the urge to migrate south each winter. It is a part of me and my culture. Remember, we have our own laws, customs, and code of conduct. While most of us have integrated into society, not all of us abide by modern expectations and formalities. Some still believe in the old ways; a survival of the fittest mentality. Duels for mates ensure that the strongest pass on their genes. To them it’s more about the survival of our race than love and feelings. It’s a very antiquated way of thinking but I’d be lying if I said no one subscribed to these views anymore. Fortunately those that do are few and far between.”

“Well, that’s good, I guess. And I’m glad I ran into you first, then. I don’t know what I would have done if I met a traditional Veela instead. At least you’re more progressive in your views.”

“I’m glad you see it that way, and this is why I am explaining it to you. So you can make the informed decision if this is what you want; to be a part of my world or not. You can walk away. It will hurt, but I want you to be happy. Even if you do not accept me, I will naturally want to protect you, unless you tell me otherwise. It’s the flock instinct to protect ourselves and mates, even if they are unclaimed.”

“Can we think of a different word to use? It sounds so possessive.”

“What would you suggest?”

“Unattached? Single? Not affiliated with anyone?” Hermione offered. Fleur just shrugged in response. “So, hypothetically speaking, if we were to go our separate ways, will I have to be worried about some new Veela swooping in on me? I mean, what if I’m married and one of those traditionalists abducts me or something?”

“I strongly doubt you will encounter other Veela in your lifetime. We are very rare. But no, if you solidify a bond with another, human or Veela, you are off limits. We respect the mating bond.”

Hermione exhaled slowly in relief. She decided to change course, as she was nearing her limit and she still had unanswered questions. “What about the dreams? Are those part of this potential mate business?”

“Dreams? What dreams?”

Hermione wavered, concerned that Fleur seemed surprised by this development. “Yeah… I, err, was dreaming about you. God that sounds creepy when I say it out loud.” She hid her face in her hands.

Fleur shook her head quickly, “Non, please, I’m not judging you. I am just curious. Tell me more about these dreams.”

“They started right after you saved me from the forest.” Hermione quickly described her dreams of the dark forest, sparing no detail.

“Do you still have them?”

“No, they stopped once I took control and found you in the meadow. I haven’t had one since then.”

Fleur’s brow furrowed “I honestly do not know what that means. I will reach out to my Maman, perhaps she knows.” She reached forward but caught herself and quickly withdrew her hand. “Is there anything else you wish to discuss?”

“Oh, I have loads of things to discuss but at the same time, this is a lot to process. Frankly I’m not sure what to think. I appreciate you telling me all this, but I’ll need some time, Fleur. Can you give me that?”

Fleur nodded slowly, though she failed to mask the sadness in her eyes, “Of course, take what time you need. I will give you space and will not interfere.”

“Thank you. All things considered, I’m not as freaked out as I thought I would be, but I’m still rather overwhelmed. For what it’s worth, I’m not dismissing the idea of well, dating you.” Hermione paused for a beat then laughed at the absurdity of it all. “Wow, I really said that.”

“I understand. You’re taking this a lot better than I was expecting.” Fleur stood and offered Hermione her hand when she saw the brunette struggling to right herself, her leg having fallen asleep.

Hermione felt a warmth spread through her chest when their hands slid together but she was in no state of mind to give it much thought. 

“I’ll show you back to school. Wouldn’t want you to get lost a third time.” Fleur joked lightly.

“Arse.” Hermione rolled her eyes as she fell into step. The pair walked in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. 

It was only after Fleur left her at the main entrance that Hermione realized they had walked the entire way back hand in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew... feeling overwhelmed? So is Hermione...  
> Anyway, hopefully that take on Veela made sense. I didn’t want to go the one soul mate trope this time...


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione replayed Fleur’s words countless times that weekend but no matter how much thought she put into it, she still couldn’t make heads or tails of the situation. In true Hermione Granger fashion, she even tried making a pro and con list but quickly crumpled it up when the columns started including phrases like “sexy goddess,” “possible crazy mate duel,” “kind and chivalrous,” “not actually soulmates,” and “unknown supernatural beings.”

The only certainty was that she was going mental.

In times like these, there was only one thing left for her to do.

Hermione took a deep breath and took off at a steady jog across the grounds. Her feet crunched on frost-tipped blades of grass as she turned toward the running trail. She pumped her arms hard as she powered up the grassy incline toward the ridge that ran behind the school grounds. 

_ “You do not live in the world you think you do, ‘Ermione… I am descended from a race of elite warriors.” _

Normally she tried to clear her head and enjoy the run, but Fleur’s words echoed loudly in her ears. Well, at least her voice was soothing, and Hermione loved the French accent lacing her words. She would never admit it aloud (Ginny would take the Mickey out of her if she did) but simply hearing her name fall from Fleur’s lips made her shiver and ache to hear it again. Who knew that a soft H and rolled R could sound so damn sexy?

_ “To me you are perfect. I would be honored if you were to accept me.” _

For being frequently accused of being a know-it-all, she had no idea how to handle Fleur’s affections. It was so sudden, so intense. Normally she would consult her books for answers but there was no map or textbook for navigating matters of the heart. She was a fish out of water without a hope or a prayer.

Part of her wanted to sing from the rooftops that Fleur Delacour of all people wanted to date her. What universe was she living in to make that happen? After a lifetime of being bullied and harassed for matters beyond her control, she felt like someone saw her for who she was and accepted her as-is. 

It certainly didn’t hurt that said person happened to look like Aphrodite incarnate. She was not so shallow that she would base a potential relationship on looks alone, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t insanely attracted to the blonde girl. She also couldn’t deny that her own feelings for Fleur had been growing from curiosity into something more, but she fully expected it to be an unrequited crush she would grow out of eventually.

The other part of her shied away, throwing up red flags left and right as it screamed at her to run for the hills. They had only known each other for a little over a month, and up until a few days prior, she thought that Fleur barely tolerated her existence. Now Fleur was practically confessing her undying love and devotion. All the emotional whiplash Fleur had put her through the weeks prior was nothing compared to this turn of events.

_ “You are a potential Veela mate, ‘Ermione.”  _

_ ‘A mate?’ _ Her mind reeled at the thought. She hadn’t even had a girlfriend before, let alone an actual relationship! 

She understood that the terms Fleur used were indicative of her culture, but it was clear that this was a very serious matter in the Veela world. Obviously Fleur didn’t mean literal mates, because mating implied producing offspring. Last she checked, that was impossible for two girls to procreate together. 

‘ _ Holy shit, am I actually thinking about this?’ _

Regardless of the kids - no kids dilemma, did she want this? To settle into such a serious relationship so soon? She was barely eighteen. It was far too early for her to be making life-altering decisions, in her opinion. But she wasn’t naive. She knew that any decision she made at this point would have a lasting impact on her life. 

The way she saw it, there were two paths laid before her: a life with Fleur or a life without Fleur. Either direction would have consequences for better or worse and only time would tell. 

If she decided to turn away and go on living her life pretending Veela didn’t exist, would she regret it? Would she be kept up at night wondering about the ‘what ifs’ and ‘what might have beens’ if she had stayed with the Frenchwoman? Would the nightmares return? Alternatively, she had no idea what her future might look like if she chose to accept Fleur’s offer of courtship.

Regardless of her decision, she had milestones she wanted to achieve; dreams that she wouldn’t give up on. She wanted to experience the world before going to university. She wanted to know what it was like to rent a cheap flat and live the bohemian student lifestyle (maybe not for too long). She would work a part-time job and have a cat waiting for her at home - she had already determined that dogs were too high maintenance. After finding her passion, she would start a career and work her ass off to make a difference in the world. It seemed like a pretty solid life plan, in her humble opinion. 

Would Fleur support these endeavors? Did the Veela’s personal goals align with her own? What did Fleur even want in life? The only thing Hermione really knew was that Fleur wanted to pursue chemistry at university. Aside from that, the blonde was a complete enigma. 

If their interests diverged, would the blonde wait for her? If they had the same goals, would Fleur want to come with her and experience them together? 

Hermione huffed as she pushed through the burn in her thighs and calves. With one last burst of speed, she crested the hill and the trail flattened out. She paused for a moment to appreciate the scenery below, bending at the waist with her palms resting on a large boulder to catch her breath. The cold air burned her lungs and throat. It hurt but was also strangely satisfying in its own way. 

The early rays of morning cast a silvery glow across the expansive Hogwarts grounds. Birds were starting to sing and a light breeze moved through the trees. It was a truly awe inspiring view, and one of her favorite places on campus - besides the library, of course. She regretted that she wasn’t more artistically inclined, as this would be a perfect place to set up an easel. Alas.

Below her, hundreds of students were stirring in their beds, getting ready to take on the day. They were completely oblivious to Veela, mates, and other bizarre customs of the mythical race hiding among them. Part of her was jealous of their ignorance, but at the same time she thought it was a wonderful gift of knowledge shared by so few. 

Another part of her was mad that Fleur had waited so long to tell her about who and what she was. But she also empathized with the blonde. She would have probably done the same if the tables were turned. It was a thin line to walk, and she appreciated that Fleur trusted her enough to tell her the truth. That counted for a lot.

She still had many questions but she was grateful that Fleur had taken the time to explain, at least the basics. She shivered to think what might have happened if she had encountered one of those traditional Veela instead. 

According to Fleur, while there was a low chance of encountering another Veela, it was entirely possible. Considering that she had inadvertently stumbled upon two Veela in a small boarding school in the Scotland Highlands, maybe the odds weren’t exactly in her favor. What if she met another, less-than-understanding Veela down the road? What then?

_ “Even if you chose to pursue a relationship with me, until we solidify our bond, it is possible that another Veela may challenge me for rights to you.” _

That really had thrown her for a loop: that someone might try to claim her, like a possession to own and use for their own twisted purposes. She was fiercely independent and loathe to think someone might view her that way. 

Fleur wasn’t like that, though. She fully believed that Fleur would never force her into something she didn’t want or agree to. There were no lies or deceit clouding those endless sapphire pools. Fleur had been so nervous sharing her culture and adamant that Hermione had equal say in this matter. 

She didn’t doubt that Fleur had a possessive streak, her actions toward Katie were solid proof of that. It might have been her instincts driving her decisions, but at least the blonde seemed to be aware and ashamed of her behavior. That was saying something.

Hermione straightened up and paced back and forth, her hands on her hips as her breathing started to regulate. Normally she would keep going but she just didn’t have the motivation.

_ “In the end, we both can decide if we want the other. It’s not set in stone or written in the stars.” _

Her heart leapt at the idea that Fleur wanted her - actually wanted her - and was not being dictated by some ancient Veela tradition or instinct. Fleur said she would choose her above any other mate. She had never been someone’s number one before and her ego preened. 

She wondered what it was that made her so special to Fleur. She thought she was just a simple girl trying to navigate her way in the world. What could she possibly offer a supernatural warrior maiden, aside from her apparent immunity to Veela’s mythical persuasion. 

Thrall; what a strange concept. The way she understood it - which wasn’t that strong of a grasp, truthfully - it was a kind of mind control. It sounded like something straight out of a science fiction novel. It blew her away that it was an actual Veela ability. What else was there that Fleur hadn’t told her about herself yet? 

Hermione wanted to know everything but her usual go-to for research was out of the question. She was still cursing the ancient Veela that had removed their existence from history, but she understood why they did it. It pained her that so much knowledge and culture had almost been lost because of human ignorance and greed. 

If she hadn’t met Fleur, she would have gone on completely ignorant to the existence of Veela, but she wouldn’t be stuck in this sudden internal debate, either. 

_ “You can walk away.” _

Could she walk away? Could she really turn her back after a brief glimpse? Was it that simple? She shook her head, the answer glaringly obvious. 

No; no it wasn’t. 

Hermione was still pacing restlessly when the bell tolled 7. She had stayed up on the hill far longer than she planned and now she would have to kick it into high gear if she was to have time to get a shower before breakfast and class. 

With one fleeting glance and a sigh she took off back for the dorms. 

“Something on your mind?” 

“Oh, no, sorry… I was just lost in my thoughts.” Hermione hastily deflected Luna’s question over breakfast. 

“There’s no need to apologize. Being lost can be a beautiful thing. It’s good to see you letting loose and allowing your mind to wander a little.”

“Err… okay?” Hermione wasn’t in the mood for one of Luna’s cryptic, philosophical ramblings. 

“What I’m saying is that by focusing on one thing, we often fail to see the full picture, even when it’s laid out right in front of us.” Luna clarified. “I have a feeling the answers you seek are right before you. You just need to allow yourself to see properly.” 

Hermione balked slightly at the statement. There was no way Luna could possibly know about her situation, yet she somehow zeroed in and spoke as if she was privy to everything. It was more than slightly disconcerting.

She had learned early on that blonde junior had an annoying habit of seeing through her walls and finding her vulnerable spots. Combined with a lack of a verbal filter, it had occasionally led to Luna vocalizing things that Hermione would have preferred to stay confidential. As a result, she always treaded lightly around Luna and tried to keep her guard up. It didn’t seem to make a difference, but she did it anyway. 

“Stop focusing on what you think is right. Thinking isn’t always the answer.” Luna finished with a soft hum and a dreamy smile. 

“Oh, uh… thanks for the err… advice, Luna.” Hermione managed after a few moments of stunned silence. She turned back to her breakfast and forced herself to nibble on her buttered toast and marmalade.

Luna just hummed again in response and turned her attention to her girlfriend.

Ginny was completely oblivious to their exchange. The redhead was currently locked in an arm wrestling match across the table with Katie. After a brief period of awkwardness, Bell had been extremely understanding about the whole fireside incident. It was all water under the bridge as far as the brown haired athlete was concerned. Hermione wasn’t about to correct her. 

It was a twist in her gut to lie outright, but revealing the truth would mean telling her about Fleur and her Thrall. She had made a promise to Fleur and she would never betray that trust. 

Hermione pushed her scrambled eggs around her plate, purposefully avoiding eye contact with the intuitive blonde and tuning out the cheers of the rest of the spectators watching the heated battle. Evidently it was one and one, and this round would determine the victor. 

“I think I’m going to head to class. I’ll see you all later,” Hermione announced suddenly. Without waiting for a response, she grabbed her tray - still mostly full - and swept out of the Hall.

Without the distraction of other people, Hermione was left with her own thoughts as company. She mulled over her short ‘talk’ with Luna. It was equal parts enlightening and confusing. In her opinion, thinking was one of her greatest strengths and she prided herself on her logical reasoning abilities. Then again, maybe Luna was on to something. Logic had no place when considering something as illogical as the supernatural. 

Dread started to build in her stomach as she approached the biology room. Each step had become an uphill struggle through quickstand.

She hadn’t seen Fleur at all the rest of Friday or the weekend. The blonde girl kept true to her promise to give her space to think, and she appreciated it more than she let on. She had struggled enough to decide what she was going to do without the added pressure of someone breathing down her neck. 

But now contact was unavoidable. She partially wanted to skip the class, but she had cut on Friday and didn’t want to fall behind. Or worse, get the reputation for ditching school. 

She tried to mentally brace herself for seeing Fleur. Would Fleur expect an answer? Was she prepared to give her one? Forget that, she still didn’t have any idea  _ what _ she would say. After nearly 72 hours of near constant deliberation, she was no closer to having an answer than she had been on Friday. At this point she was on the verge of consulting a magic 8 ball for advice. 

The classroom was mercifully empty when she arrived and she took advantage of the silence to calm herself and get settled. She distracted herself by arranging her pens, books, and notebook to her specific liking. Task complete, she cracked her book to catch up for missing Friday. 

Even immersed in her reading, she was keenly aware of the other students filing in around her. Her heart was hammering with anticipation and nerves.  _ She _ would be here any second. 

She didn’t have to look up to know Fleur had arrived. She could smell the distinct jasmine perfume wafting through the air and with it, a sense of calm laced with anxiety.

“Good morning, Fleur.” Hermione mumbled without looking up, her eyes trained on the passage she was reading.

“Bonjour, ‘Ermione.”

Silence. 

Hermione waited for Fleur to say something more but the blonde made no effort to continue the conversation. It was like every other morning: a polite hello and then minding one’s own business. It’s exactly what Fleur said would happen but Hermione hated it. Fleur was acting as if Friday never happened. She  _ had _ to do something. 

“So, I did a lot of thinking this weekend…” Brown eyes flicked up to meet blue and her breath caught.

Fleur looked radiant as ever as she unwrapped her scarf around her neck, but Hermione noted that there were light shadows under her eyes and she was moving sluggishly. 

Apparently she wasn’t the only sleep-deprived wreck that weekend. 

She felt a sharp pang of guilt in her chest but was interrupted before she could finish her sentence. 

“Good morning, Class!” Sprout announced cheerfully, entering the classroom in a bustle. “Everyone grab your belongings, we’ll be in the greenhouse today!”

There was a slight grumbling and shuffling of stools as the students repacked their bags and bundled up. The greenhouse wasn’t far but winter’s grip on the land had strengthened over the weekend and the 50 yard trek was enough to be uncomfortable.

The practical lab was fast paced but unfortunately left them no time to talk things through. Not that the middle of class was an appropriate place to have such an important conversation, but it might have allowed them to ease the tension a bit. 

Hermione dropped down onto her bed after classes ended that afternoon. Pulling out her phone she scrolled quickly through her contact list and typed out a brief message. Her finger hovered over the send icon. It was her fifth time drafting out the text and each time before the message went unsent. 

Maybe she should wait after all until she had a clearer idea of what she was going to do.

Remembering Luna’s words, she stopped thinking and acted, quickly tapping the screen before she could psych herself out. 

**[15:42] - ‘Would you like to meet after dinner? I think we should talk. - HG’**

She held her breath as three dots instantly appeared. After what felt like an eternity, Fleur’s response arrived. 

**[15:43] - ‘Of course, shall we meet outside the Great Hall at 18:30? - FD’**

Hermione grinned like a fool. It was endearing that Fleur signed off the same way she had. 

_ ‘Oh God, am I going to become one of those giggling lovestruck girls?’  _ She cringed at the thought but she couldn’t find it in her to care, either. She was happy and she was allowed to be happy, damn it.

**[15:43] - ‘Sounds great, I’ll see you then.’**

Fleur responded with a thumbs up emoji and Hermione set her phone down, feeling rather proud of herself for taking action. The proverbial ball that had been sitting in her court all weekend was in motion. 

No going back now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slower chapter... but I thought it was necessary. Also introspection, internal dialogue, and I aren’t friends, so I hope it wasn’t too painful to get through.
> 
> I’ll probably figure out a different way to format their texting in the future...


End file.
